


Conspiracy Room

by EtoileGarden



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: AU, Coffeeshop AU, F/M, Finished, Fluff, Friendship, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Modern AU, Office AU, Physical Abuse, Slow Burn, Verbal Abuse, Violence, nahuseresh ought to be his own warning, vaguely canon compliant actually??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 20:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11387682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: Coffee shop AU in which Kamet is constantly irritated and confused about people who want to be his friend.





	1. The Conspiracy Room

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this as a very much for fun thing and I'm also very much barely editing so...I'm sorry. Please excuse me as I live out my fantasies of everyone doing cute shit.

When Nahuseresh had shifted their main offices across the country into some backwardly small city, Kamet had truly expected to find himself horrendously bored. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t have plenty of work to do, they wouldn’t have full staff for a few months yet, not until Nahuseresh was fully satisfied with the company takeover, but still, he didn’t think there would be much of interest for him to do in his spare time. 

He was extremely bored for the first few weeks. Too exhausted after spending all day running around after a very irritated Nahuseresh, office to office, meeting to meeting, to go out after work and explore. He found himself at the apartment he shared with Nahuseresh more often than not, grateful to be able to shut himself away in his small room. It was convenient to live with Nahuseresh, being his personal assistant was an extremely hands on job, Nahuseresh was very picky, and quietly demanding, but it meant that even while officially off duty, Kamet found himself always on call in some way. Whether it was arranging dinner for the two of them, doing Nahuseresh’s laundry, instructing the cleaners on exactly how they were to polish the picture frames, or simply listening to Nahuseresh complain at length. He didn’t mind, for all of Nahuseresh’s capriciousness, he valued how hard Kamet worked, and Kamet knew that if he continued working as well as he was he would be well placed for very high positions in the future. This was the thought that kept him sane when getting up at 5 am to prepare Nahuseresh’s day for him, kept him from falling asleep on his feet at midnight while he finished organising Nahuseresh’s paperwork.   
By the end of the first fortnight with things more settled and Nahuseresh more comfortable in his new surroundings, Kamet was able to take more than a half hour break for himself. The first thing he did was visit the local library. It was easy enough to find, and once inside, so blessedly quiet that Kamet could feel the weeks’ stress melting off him. For such a small city, the library was beautifully curated, and it was easy to find the books of poetry he had been hoping for. He could have very easily curled up in one of the enticing couches along the library walls, but did not feel quite comfortable yet in this city of strangers. The next obvious step was to get a library card, there was little point in visiting the library if he couldn’t bring himself to relax and read in it or take books out. He was reminded almost immediately of how small the city was as he stepped up to the counter.   
“I’ve not seen you here before,” the librarian said, looking him up and down, “are you part of the team from the Mede offices?”   
All he wanted was to spend time alone with no one talking to him about work.   
He smiled pleasantly at the man, “I am,” he replied, offering no further information, “I’m here to get a library card,” he gestured to the books in his arm as if to prove he wanted to get books out.   
“Absolutely,” the man nodded - he had a name tag on, but Kamet hadn’t persuaded Nahuseresh yet to fulfil the part of their work agreement that would pay for glasses, and he was unwilling to lean closer to read the small typed name, “You’ll need proof of address, a valid ID, and just a few moments of your time to fill out our form,” the librarian was handing him paper and pen as he spoke.   
Kamet had come prepared, and handed over his ID and very recently aquired proof of address, smiled politely so as to match his ID, and bent over the paperwork. 

As the man checked the books out for him, he raised his eyebrows in approval, held up the book of plays by Aristophanes, “We just recently got this in, I was very excited but not enough people shared my enthusiasm, I’m glad to see it’s getting some attention.”   
Kamet allowed his smile to shift from polite to genuine, and nodded eagerly, unsurprised that these backwards country people wouldn’t appreciate good literature, “He’s a favourite of mine, I was pleased to find that you had his new work, I wasn’t able to get my hands on it before we moved.”   
“I can assure you you will always be able to find any of his works here, he happens to be one of my favourites as well,” the librarian is smiling back at him now and Kamet nodded, very pleased.   
“Once you have finished reading his new work,” the librarian handed the now checked out book to Kamet, “I would be interested in hearing of your thoughts on them.”   
In life there were few things Kamet felt he could truthfully say he enjoyed. Among this list was honeycakes, sweetly glazed and sprinkled with flaked nuts, thick writing paper, freshly made beds, and people wanting his opinion on literature. He beamed.   
“Of course, I would enjoy to hear your opinions on them as well,” he added, tucked the books under his arm, “I think I will go read them now, is there a park nearby? I prefer to read outside.”   
“We have quite a few parks here, despite the size, but the best one for peaceful reading would be the Queen’s Garden,” he pointed in the direction of the library exit, “just two blocks straight from here in fact.”   
Kamet nodded his thanks, moved to leave, but the librarian said, “I look forward to seeing you again - ?”   
“Oh, Kamet,” Kamet offered, slightly cautiously, “yes, I will try and read these sooner rather than later, thank you for your help -” he paused to let the librarian introduce himself, hoped he wouldn’t be offended that Kamet hadn’t just read his name tag.   
“Relius,” the librarian smiled softly, “enjoy the gardens.” 

The gardens were as easy to find as Relius’ vague hand waving had suggested, and much more beautiful. The paths were well kept, and the garden beds were neat without being tamed. He walked the paths until he came to what he assumed must be the middle, marked out with a large round fountain, edged with lilies. The fountain boasted a statue standing in the middle, water cascading off outstretched arms, a small rock cupped in stone hands. Carved letters at the base of the statue told him that this fountain doubled not only as viewing pleasure but also as a monument to some historical or mythical figure. He wasn’t familiar with it, made a note to ask Relius about it when he next visited the library.   
He sat in the soft sunlight on a bench opposite the statue, basked in his solitude until he felt entirely at peace, and then opened his new books.

His serenity lasted right up to the moment he stepped back inside the apartment, and Nahuseresh threw a shoe at him.   
“Where the fuck have you been?” he snapped while Kamet gaped at him, rubbing his arm where he’d been hit. The books were on the floor. “I had the skype meeting with the director this afternoon and you were supposed to type up my notes! I sent you the instructions this morning!”   
“It was my day off?” Kamet tried cautiously, caught the second shoe thrown at him, “I’m so sorry, Sir,” he attempted to smooth Nahuseresh’s temper with deference, “I didn’t check my inbox this morning, I ought to have, I am very sorry, let me make this up to you.”   
Nahuseresh deftly ignored Kamet’s attempts to deter an argument, and stalked across the room, “You are my personal assistant,” he hissed, “I expect you to assist my person, even on your days off from the office!” he thrust a phone into Kamet’s shoe-full hands, “You should always have your work phone on you! How else am I supposed to reach you when you’re not where you ought to be?”   
Kamet would have liked to reply that Nahuseresh could have just called him on his personal phone, he had put the number in all of Nahuseresh’s devices just for moments like this, but he also knew that he should have had his work phone on him, Nahuseresh was right. He nodded, fumbled with his phone and the shoes, repeated, “I’m sorry, it was foolish of me, it won’t happen again.”   
“It had better not,” Nahuseresh snarled, and then, miraculously, softened, “you would be exceedingly difficult to replace, Kamet, I need you.” He lifted one hand to pat Kamet’s cheek gently, then turned and walked out of the room, speaking rapidly as he went about tomorrow’s plans.   
Exhaling, Kamet closed his eyes to try and lessen some of the emotional whiplash, then bent down to put away the shoes and pick up the books. He mumbled a few prayers of thanks that the books were unharmed from their fall, didn’t think he could face Relius after damaging his precious books, and then scurried after Nahuseresh, working hard to recall everything that was being said. 

Kamet knew that this would probably have looked, well, bad to an outsider, but this was just how it worked. It wasn’t as if he were unhappy in his position, he had a reasonable amount of power and respect, he got to do things he was good at, day in and out, he had his whole life planned ahead of him, filled with good things. So what if his boss was maybe a little harsh sometimes? So what if he never had time for himself? He knew that Nahuseresh needed him, probably even quite liked him, and that was enough, especially seeing as Kamet knew that Nahuseresh did not like spending time or trust on most people, even his wife, but that was another story. The trust Nahuseresh had for him was what mattered. 

He finished the plays within a few days, snatching moments of his day between appointments and before sleep to read, but dropped the book off after library hours. He didn’t have time for friends. He visited the park though. It was close enough to the newly remodeled Mede offices to walk to on his lunch break, when Nahuseresh was eating out for business and dismissed him, of course. Despite the cleanliness and beauty of the gardens, he barely ever saw anyone else in them, and when he did, they usually simply nodded at him and kept on walking. Polite, sophisticated, appreciated. This man did not. Kamet had heard him before he had seen him, trudging up a side path towards him. He had slowed in the hopes that the man would continue on soon, and Kamet could be left to his daydreams, but rather than carrying on with his loud and fast pace, the man waited at the fork joining his path to Kamet’s, then fell into step beside him. .  
“You’re Kamet,” he said, and Kamet stared at him from under furrowed brows. The man was wearing a bright red hoodie, some random scrawl emblazoned on the front, too tight, ripped jeans, and ridiculously clunky boots. He must have been barely taller than Kamet was himself, but the shoes gave him a little added height.  
“And you are?” he said stiffly, and the man, really barely a man, his face was still youthful, held his hand out to Kamet without dropping stride.   
“Call me Gen,” he said, ignoring Kamet’s chilly tone, “I’ve seen you around the Mede offices,” he added as Kamet took Gen’s hand briefly before dropping it.   
“Indeed.”  
“You haven’t seen me there then, have you?” Gen asked and Kamet only shook his head in answer. If this idiot worked in the offices, he must be nothing more than a night shift cleaner, maybe a runner. Nahuseresh did not allow people like...this in his offices, or at least where they could be seen.   
“No, I suppose you are too busy with work,” Gen conceded, “and I don’t really stand out.”   
Kamet snorted, then covered his mouth horrified, but Gen only laughed at him, not caring or not realising that Kamet was less embarrassed that his disbelief was so obvious, and more that he had let out such an undignified noise.   
“I apologise,” Kamet said, dropping his hand quickly and resuming a blank, yet polite expression, “I admit that my work keeps me too occupied a lot of the time to recognise everyone who works in the buildings. Especially when the majority of people are new.”   
“Of course,” Gen nudged him, “I am not offended Kamet, but I am sure you will be glad to hear that I do wear a suit to the office.”   
Kamet turned to look at him again, trying to picture this boy in a suit, in a stoic expression, in a business meeting, and utterly failed. The wide toothy grin on the boy’s face did not help.   
“I am glad to hear that,” he conceded, allowing a small smile, “maybe next time I see you at the offices I’ll recognise you.”   
“Probably not,” Gen said confidently, shoving his hands with difficulty into his jean pockets, “I think you would need to get glasses first, I doubt we’ll cross paths close enough for recognition otherwise.” He spoke so matter of factly that it took Kamet a few minutes to remember that his short sight was not a matter of public knowledge. He shot Gen a confused look, his face hard again.  
“What makes you say that?” Kamet snapped, and the boy shrugged.  
“Possibly because of that face you make when you think you see someone you need to talk to,” he suggested, and Kamet frowned more, uncomfortable with the fact that this boy knew so much about him, spoke so casually as if they were friends.   
“What face?”  
“Oh, this one,” Gen said, paused, turned to him and squinted angrily at Kamet for just a second before smoothing his face into pleasant confidence. It was very familiar, and he could feel his face burning with self consciousness.   
“You’re mocking me,” he said angrily, and Gen resumed his grin.  
“Yes,” he agreed, “but only with the best intentions, truly, Kamet.”   
“What do you even do in the offices?” Kamet demanded, considering weeding him out and having him fired.   
“Don’t worry,” Gen rolled his eyes and began walking again, “I’m not near anything important, I’m an intern in the lower offices, I help with basic paperwork, I’m not even paid, so I’m not a drain on your precious company.”   
“It’s not my company,” Kamet replied stupidly.   
“So,” Gen nodded, “I was not implying that it was yours, per se, just that you are very invested in its success, and do a lot of very important work for it.”   
Kamet eyed him closely, attempting to figure out exactly what Gen wanted from him, who he was working for.   
“You can look me up on your databases,” Gen offered, seemingly reading the mistrust in Kamet’s eyes, “Gen Noble, I have very reputable referees, and your company does a very thorough background check for all employees, even interns, but if they have missed something I know you will pick it up, Kamet.” He was teasing again, very good naturedly. Kamet scowled, but found himself somewhat appeased. He wasn’t going to just take Gen’s word for it, he would absolutely do his own background check, he hadn’t got to where he was through falling for other’s bluffs.   
They had reached the outskirts of the garden, and Gen checked his watch before looking up to smile again at Kamet, “I suppose you ought to get back to work,” he said, and Kamet nodded, wondered if his work hours were more well known than he thought. “Maybe I will come and walk in the gardens with you again?” Gen suggested, his tone implied that Kamet could turn the offer down if he wanted, and Kamet, to his surprise decided he didn’t want.   
“I’m sure that would be fine,” he replied, “I’ll see you around the office, then.” he said and turned on his heel to leave.   
Gen called after him, “Not until you get glasses!” 

One of Kamet’s jobs in the afternoon, usually about an hour after lunch break, was to go fetch Nahuseresh’s afternoon tea. Despite the fact that the office supplied as much food as you could want, whenever you wanted, Nahuseresh liked to exercise his privilege in always having food brought in from some more expensive cafe. He enjoyed having something that no one else in the office had. Back in their last office, Nahuseresh always sent Kamet to the same place, a very high end boutique on the main street, partial to serving celebrities, but he hadn’t decided on a new place here in Attolia. So far Kamet had probably visited the majority of the cafes, restaurants, and bakeries in the city, only for Nahuseresh to deem the unsuitable, for a variety of reasons. The first week’s offerings had all been too bland or common, the second week’s were too overwrought, or he didn’t like the font on their websites, the third’s had unsuitable clientele -read; too poor - or didn’t have his favourite strudel, and so far every single one from this week hadn’t been able to prepare the coffee just right. If he didn’t find a good place soon, Kamet was considering simply hiring a personal chef for Nahuseresh and forbidding him from serving anyone else in the office. Anything to calm Nahuseresh.   
The cafe he visited today was the last on his list of high possibilities, which ought to have meant that it had a good chance of being perfect, but all the other contenders had been on the same list and failed. Still, Kamet thought as he stood outside the ‘Conspiracy Room’, it looked to be elegant enough to suit Nahuseresh’s tastes. The architecture and decor was impeccable, nothing too flouncy, nothing too drab. Upon entering, the door did not jingle irritatingly, but the man at the far counter looked up immediately. Kamet paused in the doorway to take it in, cautiously hopeful, despite not even having looked yet at the food. There were several tables in the spacious room, most of them filled with groups of quiet people, either talking sedately or ignoring each other politely. There was an air of wealth about the whole place, and Kamet relaxed, certain that none of these people would be here if the food was substandard.   
He strolled past the cabinets, boasting a luxurious variety of cakes and pastries. No prices visible, which was of course a good sign. If you needed to know how much the Sant Ambrous was, you probably couldn’t afford it. Nahuseresh of course, could.   
The man at the counter, Kamet realised, was smiling patiently at him. The man at the counter, Kamet realised, was extremely good looking. He was impeccably tidy, save for a few unruly curls, and looked entirely out of place in a place like this. He had muscles for days, and looked to be as thick as the counter was wide. He towered over Kamet. If he wasn’t wearing a nametag with the name of the cafe emblazoned in gold across the top, Kamet would have thought he was just standing behind the counter by chance. Perhaps some glorified celebrity bodyguard. As it was, he swallowed, asked about the origin of their coffee beans, where they sourced their almonds, and what varieties of milk they had. The man, Kamet squinted at the name tag, Costis, answered each of his questions appropriately enough to meet Nahuseresh’s standards, and offered to let Kamet sample the goat milk. Kamet declined.   
“I’m not here for myself,” he explained, unnecessarily, “but my, uh, boss has very strict requirements of how he likes his afternoon tea. I certainly have no qualms about milk types.”   
Costis nodded, smiled as if he understood how peculiar those in charge were, and waited for Kamet’s order. Kamet gave it, knowing it off by heart after a decade of ordering similar variants.   
“No drink for you?” Costis asked and Kamet shook his head.   
“I’m not a big afternoon tea fan,” he said, and Costis nodded. Kamet paid, not batting an eye at the price. Costis gestured at a beautifully polished wooden counter off to the side.  
“If you’d like to wait at the counter I’ll prepare your order, it ought to be ready for you within the next five minutes.”  
Sitting down on one of the cushioned stools at the counter, Kamet shook his head as he looked out over the room, surely there was no way his order would be ready in five minutes. Although no one had been waiting when he’d walked in, while he ordered at least four new customers had arrived to wait quietly in line behind him, and a few more had simply seated themselves at tables with little ‘reserved’ cards on them. Unless they had an army of waiters and baristas hidden behind the intricately carved screen Costis had been standing in front of, Kamet had no idea how he could promise such a feat.   
He sat and bemoaned the fact that he didn’t dare return to the library and face Relius just yet, he could have used a book to wait out his order. Instead, he watched Costis with the new customers. They barely seemed to speak, Costis nodded to each of them and held his hand out for their cards before they even had a chance to place their orders. Far from being disgruntled at this turn of events, they all seemed quite pleased, each of them receiving the same message, that their order would be ready within five minutes. After they had paid, they came and sat, a few stools along from Kamet, at the counter, and busied themselves with their phones. While Costis was not talking to the customers, a grey haired lady appeared from behind the screens, trays of steaming pots balanced on both hands, and dipped in amongst the tables, stopping at those who had just arrived and placing before them what appeared to be exactly what they had wanted. Kamet supposed that this must be the sort of place which had a lot of regulars, a lot of odd and expensive cafes did have the type of regular who always ordered the same thing at the same time, take Nahuseresh for example. But sitting here, on the outside of it all, it rather looked like some elaborate dance, or magic trick. As the lady whisked herself away behind the screen again, Kamet, watching as closely as his eyes were able, watched her smack Costis on the behind as he bent down to reach something on a lower shelf.   
“I’ll tell Irene you were flirting, Phresine,” Costis warned, “you know she doesn’t approve of office romances.” His tone was stern, and for a long moment Costis believed he was being serious, until he straightened up again and his smile became visible. The lady, Phresine, laughed and patted his shoulder - which was as high up on him she seemed to be able to reach - “You can’t get an old lady like me in trouble,” she told him, and disappeared again into what must have been the kitchens. Costis looked up, across the room, locked eyes with Kamet, and Kamet froze, aware he had been caught staring. He blinked, turned away quickly, focused intently on the hazy blur that was the view outside, and pretended that he wasn’t embarrassed. He had no reason to be embarrassed, it wasn’t as if he had been spying, they were in plain sight, and close enough to hear easily. He was too busy forcing himself to remember how to be calm that when Costis arrived at his elbow, he jumped.  
“Sorry,” Costis said, amused, he reached out to steady Kamet, gripping him loosely by the elbow, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”  
He was holding a white box in his other hand, loopy gold lettering embossed across the lid, a black coffee cup balanced on top.   
“No matter,” Kamet pulled his arm away from Costis’ grip, and stood up quickly. He glanced down at the delicate watch on his wrist, saw that it had indeed taken only four and a half minutes, and then reached out for the box. “You’re very efficient at your job,” he said clumsily, “I am impressed.”   
Costis handed him the coffee first, and then the box, warm and delicious smelling, and smiled at him.   
“Thank you,” he said sincerely, and then, “I hope we’ll see you here again.” 

As Kamet stood outside and hailed a taxi he told himself very firmly that it was Costis’ job to make people want to come back, that when he said ‘we’, he meant the business. He knew perfectly well that this is exactly what Costis meant, and had, by the time the car reached his new offices, decided that it would be best to not return if he was going to be so befuddled just by some good looking waiter. There was no point in putting himself in a situation like that, he had no time for romantic attachments, and certainly no time for unrequited pining. He was not going to be swayed by a nice face, he told himself firmly as he reached Nahuseresh’s office and began opening the box to set the pastries onto a plate, and then froze.   
Costis was not as good at his job as he had thought, he’d given him the wrong order. There was the pastries Kamet had ordered, but nestled among them all was a delicately iced cupcake, sprinkled with what looked to be tiny flowers. It took him a little longer than it should have to notice the note scrawled in large loopy letters on the inside of the lid.   
It read -   
I know you said you’re not big on afternoon tea -   
you don’t have to eat the muffin now, have it later.   
Just an incentive to come back.

It was the stupidest thing he had ever read. He considered putting the muffin on the plate with the pastries and taking it out to Nahuseresh, citing it as an opportunity to test the new cafe’s baking as well, but Nahuseresh was not fond of pink icing. It might have been a good way to persuade Nahuseresh, without him realising he was being persuaded, into cutting this cafe off the list as well, but it also had the danger of Nahuseresh taking out his irritation on Kamet. 

Nahuseresh loved the pastries. Nahuseresh loved the coffee. Nahuseresh loved Kamet’s descriptions of the rich looking clientele, the poshness of the surrounding buildings, the intel he had read up on of the owner. He especially loved the name.   
“This is it,” he told Kamet proudly, as if he was the one who had made the pastries himself, “this is the place I want my afternoon tea from. See if they do catering events as well, I might want to hire them for personal parties.” 

So, Kamet thought to himself gloomily, truly the gods are testing me. It wouldn’t be so bad, he would only have to be in this man’s presence for less than ten minutes if today was anything to go by, and he was exceedingly good in finding the aspects of people that annoyed him. With any luck he would hate the man’s guts within the next few days, and hating someone was much easier than being attracted to them.


	2. Honeycake

The next day, Nahuseresh had a meeting scheduled for his usual afternoon tea spot, and Kamet was saved from returning and seeing Costis again. He would have to thank him for the cupcake. He hadn’t eaten it yet. He had put it away in the small fridge in Nahuseresh’s spacious office, counting on the fact that Nahuseresh always got him to bring him food and drink from it, rather than getting it himself. He waited until Nahuseresh was at his meeting. He had left sour faced about having to skip his usual treat time, and had given Kamet a severe tongue lashing about booking him in for appointments at stupid times. No matter that it had been Nahuseresh himself who had arranged this meeting. Kamet, had bowed his head, apologised, promised to do better, and Nahuseresh had gone, still grumbling.   
He ate the cupcake.   
Then he washed his hands, scrubbed his teeth with his fingers, drank a glass of water to wash away any evidence - both to hide it from Nahuseresh and himself. It had been entirely delicious, and he felt almost guilty about not sharing it with Nahuseresh.   
It wasn’t until after Nahuseresh returned from the meeting, complaining about ignorant locals, that Kamet remembered his walk with Gen in the park. He hadn’t yet looked him up. He soothed Nahuseresh’s complaints with a large mug of spiked black coffee and a foil wrapped chocolate as well as an entire stack of completed paperwork, and waited until Nahuseresh was on the phone with the next person to snark at before he opened the company network on his computer and typed in the name Gen had given him.   
If he hadn’t wanted to draw attention to himself, he would have whistled in admiration, the boy, for he was a boy, barely over 20, was extremely well accomplished, especially for his age. He had been right about the glowing references which had landed him the job. By all rights he shouldn’t be an intern, the company ought to have hired him on the spot. Still, if they had seen him in that ridiculous get up, some sort of… street punk? They wouldn’t have tolerated him, Kamet was sure of it. The Mede corporation was a business run entirely out of extremely expensive suits. He found himself hoping that he would run into the boy in the gardens again, if only because it could be amusing to make fun of him for having three degrees but still such a terrible taste in clothing. 

Nahuseresh is exceedingly crabby the next morning. Kamet had woken him earlier than he prefered with a pressing phone call from the main offices, and apparently what they had to say wasn’t pleasing, and therefore nothing else in the morning was. He yelled at Kamet for the coffee, the colour was apparently not quite right. He snarled at the breakfast, something about the consistency of the eggs. He berated Kamet on the matching of colours he had chosen for Nahuseresh’s tie and socks. He smacked the back of Kamet’s head when he handed him a pen that had run out.   
“What is the point of having a personal assistant,” Nahuseresh asked their empty flat, “if he is as useless at assisting as you are?”   
Kamet added ‘-Buy new pens’ to his to-do list, and waited impatiently for the afternoon to come by. Nahuseresh had had so much praise for The Conspiracy Room’s delicacies, Kamet hoped that the prospect of eating from there again would smooth out his grim mood, even if it did mean that Kamet would have to see that mountain of a man again. He had decided, very firmly, that in truth Costis was much too large to be attractive. Maybe if Kamet wanted someone to carry him everywhere, that would be the type of man to aim for, but if he were to ever try his hand at dating again, he felt he was more likely to aim for someone who didn’t dwarf him so entirely. 

When he stepped back into the warmly lit, sweetly quiet Conspiracy Room, he saw at once that the figure standing behind the counter was not Costis. As he got closer he could see that it was a young women, hair piled on her head and pinned in place. She also wears a gold lettered nametag, and he glances at that first before he looks at her face. Ileia. She is beautiful, he supposed, though not as beautiful as Costis. She is sweetness in itself, a lot more forthcoming in her manner than Costis, but her smile more subdued. She takes his order, promises that it will be ready within five minutes, and directs him to the counter again, where he sits and watches the dance. He’s intrigued that it is once again Phresine who appears with her trays, performs the same movements, altering only as she tweaks Ileia’s cheek as she waltzes past. He is busy checking his schedule on his phone, knowing that it was constantly subject to change, even more so with this new office, when Costis clears his throat and Kamet drops his phone.   
This time Costis catches the phone, not Kamet’s elbow, and looks very bemused.  
“Is it your job to sneak up on people?” Kamet snapped, thoroughly taken aback and humiliated that Costis had so startled him again.   
“It might be on my job contract,” Costis replied easily, face solemn “although I like to think I was hired for my coffee making skills.”   
Kamet gets off his chair, snatches his phone back, thanking the gods above that it hadn’t landed on the floor and smashed. Nahuseresh would have replaced it, but he would have been angry. Or he would have been amused, but better not to risk it.   
“Thank you for catching my phone,” he said grudgingly and Costis shrugged.  
“Catching phones definitely was on my job contract, so think nothing of it,” he replied, and Kamet struggled not to roll his eyes. He put his hand out for the coffee and pastry box.   
Costis did not hand them over.   
“Did you like the muffin?” he asked, and Kamet sighed. This was taking too long.  
“It was a cupcake,” he corrected, “and it was nice enough I suppose. You shouldn’t have.”  
Costis beamed.   
“I’m glad you liked it,” he said, despite the fact that Kamet had said nothing of the sort, “I hope we’ll see you again soon.”   
Kamet took the coffee, took the box, left very quickly. 

There was an extra pastry in the box. Not a savoury like Nahuseresh liked, this fact was immediately obvious because it was entirely covered in chocolate. Kamet frowned at it for a long moment before letting his eyes travel up to the stupidly bad handwriting on the lid. 

-This is a Bossche bol, or a chocoladebol.  
Would be helpful if I knew what sort of things you liked. 

Firstly, of course he knew what it was. Secondly, he wasn’t asking to be given free sweets, nor did he want them. He was under not obligation to assist Costis in giving him free food that he would like. Perhaps he ought to check his receipts to make sure they hadn’t charged him for it. Then he would have a very good excuse for Nahuseresh to not go back to them. Although, Kamet hated to admit even to himself, that staying with this particular cafe seemed to be the best cure for Nahuseresh’s moods.   
It had only taken him one bite of the pastries Kamet brought him for his black mood to lift. When he’d finished eating he had seemed positively exuberant.   
“I would almost say this is better than the food from home,” he confided congenially, “if I didn’t know that that was impossible.”   
He was in such a good mood, he even remembered he’d forgotten to give Kamet his lunch break, and dismissed him for the afternoon, claiming that he could easily handle the rest of the day’s work.   
“Although Kamet,” he said, a tone of warning under his smile, and Kamet stopped at the door with one arm in his coat, “keep your phone on. I don’t want my good mood to be ruined by your inability to answer when I need you.”   
Kamet nodded. He ducked into the cafe on the next floor down to snaffle a sandwich and a cup of chai before deciding to stroll through the offices on the bottom floor. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of Gen in his work clothes, although he wasn’t entirely sure exactly where he would find him. He could of course, ask, but he didn’t like to be seen not knowing something, so he simply walked confidently through the offices, stopping every so often to instruct an intern or an office worker on the correct way to do things. No sign of Gen.   
He was just considering the possibility of sneaking into the library and using the self service scanners to avoid Relius, when his phone rang. Apparently in the short amount of time Kamet had wasted downstairs, Nahuseresh had already received enough bad news from the head offices to undo all the Conspiracy Room’s good work, and so Kamet dismissed ideas of the library, and returned to Nahuseresh. A very irritating quirk of working so closely with Nahuseresh, yet being so obviously inferior, meant that Kamet knew almost everything about how this business worked, what small and large things needed to happen every day to keep it running, but was not privy to the inner most conversations, which meant that when Nahuseresh was truly furious at something happening at the head offices, Kamet had no idea what was wrong, which in turn meant that he had no idea what ground was safe to step on as he worked on managing Nahuseresh’s temper at it. 

The following day he managed to escape for his lunch break, distracting Nahuseresh with a lengthy video call to the head office’s manager to attempt to smooth over whatever mess had occurred. He ordered lunch to be delivered to Nahuseresh’s office, and then one of the office’s personal masseuse’s to visit after the call was over, and hoped that would be enough to make his absence easier.   
Almost as soon as he had arrived at the gardens he felt much calmer. The day was warm, and the air was thick with the sound of bees, blurring out the noise of the city outside the garden walls. He had only walked alone for a few minutes when he heard the deliberate crunch of gravel behind him, and stepped to the side to allow whoever it was to pass. They didn’t, and Kamet was quietly delighted to see it was Gen who paused at his side to smile at him, he was again dressed in an oversized hoodie and ripped jeans, though different ones than the other day. Kamet wondered idly how many pairs of ripped jeans he owned, and if he bought them all already mutilated of spent time carefully distressing them.   
“I heard you inspected the Intern’s offices yesterday, I was sad to have missed you,” he said in lieu of greeting, and Kamet smiled ruefully, caught.   
“Is this admission of you slacking in your duties?” he replied and Gen rolled his eyes at him as they began to walk again.   
“Please, as if I would admit to someone with so much power of my appointment that I spend very little time actually working.”  
“I will overlook it, I think,” Kamet said, “but only because we don’t pay you, and looking at your resume I feel confident that the little work you might do is probably enough.”   
“I’m flattered,” Gen replied drily, and then, as if suddenly remembering something, “Oh, I have something for you.”   
Kamet frowned, “Why would you have something for me?” he asked, watched Gen pull a small book from the large front pocket of the hoodie.   
“I noticed you had some of Aristophane’s work with you saw me last,” Gen said in way of explanation, “and I wondered if you had read any of Sophocles, I find the similarities quite striking, though it’s not immediately obvious.” He pressed the book towards Kamet, and Kamet took it after a moment’s hesitation, turning it in his hands. It was obviously second hand, the cover dog eared and worn, and a sticky mess of layered handwritten price tags on the corner.   
“When do you want it back?” he asked cautiously, and Gen shook his head.   
“It’s my gift to you,” he said easily, “although not a very elegant one, I picked it up from my favourite book store on the way to the gardens today.”   
Kamet asked the most pressing question, “Why?”   
He had only met this boy once, even if Gen appeared to know so much about him, they were certainly not friends, it made little to no sense for him to even consider giving him a present, especially one that was obviously so well thought out. Gen shrugged eloquently.  
“I thought you would like it.”   
“This had better not be an attempt to schmooze up to our boss-” Kamet warned, only to be cut off by a harsh laugh from Gen.   
“No, no, I think I would much prefer to go unnoticed by him. I just want to do my work and go home in peace.”   
“In which case, stalking me, Nahuseresh’s personal assistant, doesn’t seem the best way to go about that,” Kamet said, much amused and was met with another shrug.   
“Why?” Gen asked, “are you planning on telling him about me?”   
He wasn’t. He didn’t even want to tell Nahuseresh where he went on his lunch breaks. It was too nice having somewhere where most of work didn’t follow him. If he told him about Gen and his surprise gift giving, he would probably have to expand on the context. It wasn’t exactly as if he thought that Nahuseresh would disapprove, of the garden (Nahuseresh always disapproved of people who Kamet might potentially become friends with), more that he liked to keep up a pretence, if only to himself, that his life was his own and he could keep secrets about that life, even such mundane ones as this.   
“No,” he admitted, smiled, tucked the book under his arm, “thank you, I look forward to reading it.” 

He was in a good mood when he walked into the Conspiracy Room, Nahuseresh had been easy going and cheerful when he’d left him later that afternoon, and Kamet had high hopes for the future of their new office. It seemed as if the problems that had been plaguing Nahuseresh from the main office had been cleared up, and he was again free to do as he liked.   
Costis was behind the counter again, and smiled widely when he saw Kamet, although he was serving another customer.   
“How was the chocoladebol?” he asked in lieue of the traditional ‘how may I help’, and Kamet crossed his arms.   
“I didn’t order it,” he replied sternly and Costis nodded.   
“I am aware. How was it?”   
He was incorrigible.   
“Pleasant,” Kamet said, “how much was it? Add it to today’s bill.”   
Costis snorts, entirely unprofessional. “It’s been paid for already,” he said.   
Kamet glared, “No more chocoladebols,” he said, and ordered Nahuseresh’s food.   
Costis shrugged, seemingly ignoring Kamet’s order, “What do you like then?” he asked.   
“Minding my own business.” Kamet replied, “Should I repeat the order?”   
Costis does not appear at all phased, “No, I got it,” he says, “it’ll be ready in about five minutes.”  
Kamet didn’t wait to be gestured away, had already turned before Costis could finish his sentence. He perched on the far end of the counter to Costis, and determinedly did not watch him. What an insufferably confident man. Kamet was sure that he must think that they were somehow on the same level, that Kamet must only be the coffee fetcher for a business, rather than personal assistant to, probably, the richest man in the city. Who did Costis think he was to be so presumptuous. It riled him up no end, and riled him up somehow even more because even this couldn’t stop Kamet’s stomach from twisting every time the man smiled at him. He couldn’t recall ever feeling so like a schoolchild facing their crush at lunchtime, and being unsure if their friendliness was genuine or in fact a school joke. He felt awfully like he must be being laughed at somehow, but couldn’t quite figure it out. All he knew was that he was not in control of this particular situation, and that was exceedingly uncomfortable. Though he was making sure not to watch Costis, he positioned himself in a way that he would know when he was being approached. He was adamant that he wouldn’t be surprised this time. He stood up when Costis came over, box and coffee in one hand, and a small paper bag in the other. Kamet eyed it suspiciously.   
“It’s a honey cake,” Costis said, “Our kitchen special. Customers get one on the house for their third visit, the owner, Irene, likes to give people incentive to be loyal to us.”   
Kamet wasn’t sure he believed this cover story, but took the bag anyway. “I’ll make sure to give it to Nahuseresh then, I’m sure he will be pleased to hear you appreciate his patronage.”   
To his credit, Costis did not even blink at this obvious dismissal of offered friendship. Instead he smiled, passed Kamet the box.   
“I’ve included his one in the box already, the one in the bag is for you.”   
His face had seemed too earnest to be so sly, Kamet felt betrayed.   
“Oh,” he nodded, left. Would it be too uncivilised to turn and tell him to stop trying to make friends? Probably, and being uncivil was beneath him and his position. Also, if he were right about it all being some kitchen joke he was sure he would only look more of a fool. Better to attempt to be as aloof as possible. 

Nahuseresh was delighted.   
“How kind of them to include you,” he told Kamet generously around a mouthful of honey, “I do believe I have heard of the cafe’s owner, Irene Attolia, yes? She’s a direct descendent of the founder of this town. Apparently the cafe is simply a fancy of hers, she is also the official owner of many of the business we trade with here.” 

Kamet had, of course, known this, but hadn’t really put it all together yet, not with Costis’ casual mention of ‘Irene’. He had known she owned the cafe, hadn’t thought she would interact with the people who worked there. Nahuseresh was still talking. 

“She hasn’t come to any of the business meetings we’ve had with her companies yet,” he said, “I think I might extend her a personal invitation to dine with me one evening. Her personnel are very agreeable, but I do prefer a more intimate relationship with such promising partners.” 

Kamet knew this. 

He eats his honey cake.


	3. Take out for two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW. Self worth issues, physical and verbal abuse. The abuse is not very detailed but it is explicit.

He types up an invitation to Irene Attolia while Nahuseresh narrates it, sends the invitation both to her and her managers so it can’t be ignored. Then Nahuseresh leaves him to it to send out invitations to other, less important guests, still important enough to impress Attolia at their presence, and to plan the evening. Usually you were supposed to plan the evening first and then send the invitations, but Nahuseresh prefered to have things his way, and to start with what he wanted most.

He reads the book over the weekend.   
Nahuseresh refused to work weekends unless it was absolutely pressing, preferring to spend his time more usefully, by drinking late into the evenings with his friends. Kamet is not needed for the majority of this, only being called in when Nahuseresh wants to be reminded of some statistic, or when the maid had gone home for the evening but he still wanted someone to serve him. He was under perpetual order to answer any calls from Nahuseresh’s wife and inform her that Nahuseresh was at a business meeting and would call her back. Nahuseresh would ring her back the next afternoon, nursing a headache and a bad temper. She would unerringly stroke the headache and the temper into full force, and then Kamet would try to soothe both of them back down as soon as the call ended. He often wondered if she was purposefully riling up Nahuseresh’s temper, or if it was just a result of a terrible marriage. 

‘Never get married, Kamet,’ Nahuseresh had advised him sagely, several times a year, ‘even marrying the pretty ones is too much of a hassle.’  
Kamet would usually nod his head, or reply with some quip about how he was married to his job, and Nahuseresh would add onto that by remarking that he would so hate to have to compete for Kamet’s attentions.   
There was no worry of that. Nahuseresh was stuck with Kamet, or vice versa. He had known that for years. He belonged in this job, it was, according to Nahuseresh when drunk and genial, his destiny to help Nahuseresh achieve greatness. So far, he was succeeding. 

Still, despite picking up after Nahuseresh and his friends all weekend, calming down Nahuseresh’s wife, and then Nahuseresh in turns, he managed to finish the book. This wasn’t such a huge feat, it was reasonably short, and genuinely enjoyable, but he was still pleased with himself. He hadn’t managed to get round to starting and finishing many new books for a while, choosing instead to re-read his favourites for comfort rather than try anything new, or only sticking with authors he knew. 

It was nearing mid afternoon before Kamet could slip away from Nahuseresh’s offices and go in search of Gen. He had exactly 24 minutes before he had to leave for the Conspiracy Room, and he really wanted to tell Gen that he had finished the book, to ask whether he thought that particular chapter was a nod to Aristophanes or not. He wasn’t sure he would even be able to find Gen, his last hunt for him had proved unsuccessful after all, but it turned out that he shouldn’t have worried, even despite his lack of glasses.  
Gen was slouching against a desk in the middle of the room, voice theatrically loud as he regaled a group of his fellow intern with some tale, that even after having only heard a few words of it, Kamet thought sounded entirely made up. He didn’t think Gen would have noticed his entrance, so caught up in his dramatising, but before Kamet had made it more than a few step into the room, Gen had looked up at him with a wide grin, and waved off his audience.   
“I’ll tell you the rest another time,” he promised them, “once I decide what should happen next,”  
“I told you he was making it up!” a tall man at the back of the group piped up mockingly, but the rest only laughed.   
“You needn’t have stopped on my account,” Kamet said once Gen had arrived in front of him, “I would hate to interrupt you in the middle of not doing any work.”   
“Pschaw,” Gen replied, undignified, “building group morale counts as doing work,” he said with faux seriousness, “and of course I had to stop on your account, I know you don’t have much time.”   
This was true, he glanced quickly at the clock across the room from him, “Yes,” he agreed, “in fact I only have 19 minute before I have to be out of the building.”  
Gen raised one eyebrow at him.  
“But I finished the book you gave me, and I had to ask-”   
Gen interrupts before he can finish his question. “Chapter 7 yes? Do you think it’s an inside joke between just the two of them, or?”

To extend their conversation as long as possible, Gen walked Kamet to the lift, and then to the front of the building, and only said goodbye once Kamet was climbing into the car.   
“I’ll talk to you later,” Kamet told him out the window, “you’re still wrong about the last chapter, but I do have to go.”

 

Costis is behind the counter, looking infuriatingly good looking. As if over the weekend Kamet had either forgotten how lovely he was to look at, or Costis had somehow gotten more handsome. Rude. 

“I was wondering if you were coming back,” Costis said in lieu of a more appropriate greeting. Kamet very carefully did not scowl.   
“I’m not in office on the weekends,” he replied.  
“Usual drink?” Costis asked, slightly more appropriately.   
“Yes,” Kamet nodded, “and a slice of your rhubarb meringue. No food for me, thank you.” he added sharply, making sure to catch Costis’ eye as he did.   
“If you’re sure,” Costis said pleasantly.  
Kamet lifted his card to indicate that he’d had enough of the conversation now, but Costis ignored this cue.  
He took the card, however, swiped it, handed it and the machine to Kamet to put the pin in, then said, “So, I know your boss’s name, but not yours?”   
Kamet feigned ignorance. “Hm,” he said.

“I simply thought it a little strange is all,” Costis added as Kamet handed the machine back, “Especially seeing as I doubt I’ll ever meet him.”   
“Hm,” Kamet said again.  
“Your order will be ready in five minutes,” Costis offered, and Kamet moved away.   
He was regretting not getting Gen’s phone number while they were talking. He felt it was likely that by the time he saw him again Gen would have had ample time to build his argument up. Not that he didn’t think he would win the argument, but still. It would be nice to have been able to text him instead of going on a wild goose hunt for him instead as well. Although, those thoughts were straying dangerously close to ‘having a friend’, and he wasn’t entirely sure that was sensible. 

He checked his emails, typed out a few very brief replies, checked Nahuseresh’s account, and looked up before Costis could startle him. 

He had two cups. 

“It’s not food,” Costis offered, and Kamet glared freely.   
“I thought the meaning was clear enough,” he snapped back. Costis shrugged.  
“It’s a dirty chai,” he said, “you look like you need caffeine but not straight coffee.”   
“I didn’t order it.”  
Costis didn’t even bother looking chagrined.   
“We have a special on the rhubarb meringue,” he said.   
“What?” Kamet bit out, “Buy a rhubarb meringue and get a dirty chai? You would think you might have mentioned that when I ordered the meringue.”   
“No,” Costis said, “buy a rhubarb meringue and get a drink based on your exhaustion levels. Not everyone wants a dirty chai.”   
“Who says I want a dirty chai?”   
“You don’t?”  
Kamet glowered. This was the point in which he could very easily say that he didn’t, he could say he didn’t drink chai, or he didn’t drink coffee, or he didn’t take free drinks from strangers. Instead, he took the free drink from the stranger, then the drink he had paid for, and then, with a little bit of juggling, the box with the stupid meringue.   
“You have terrible customer service,” he said tartly, and left. 

The chai was perfect. He only managed to drink half of it before he got back to the office though, and had to dump the remainder of it in a rubbish bin on his way inside. It wouldn’t do for Nahuseresh to think he had bought himself something as well, and it would be equally bad for Nahuseresh to discover that Kamet was being given free treats. He would assume Kamet had somehow been asking for them, whether by flirting or being pathetic. 

The thing was - the thing was that Kamet couldn’t say that he hadn’t been. Well. He was reasonably certain he hadn’t been flirting, reasonably certain he had been as un-flirtatious as possible without being too rude. However, he was just as certain that there was something about him that shimmered with patheticness. No matter how carefully he polished himself into the appearance of a high ranking business man he could never quite shake the inadequacy off of his sleeves, and there was a chance that everybody else could see it. That might be why Costis gave him the sweets, the drink, out of some awful pity that Kamet wanted less than a fist in the face.   
There wasn’t really that many other options for why, anyway. Kamet had narrowed them down to three possibilities. Costis pitied him. Costis was playing some infantile school joke on him. Costis, for no discernable reason, liked him. The vain part of Kamet shyly suggested that all the evidence so far was heavily leaning towards the latter option, but every other part of him found the idea scoff-able. This was not to say that he did not think people liked him, he knew they did - for his work ethic, for his skills, for his talent in calming Nahuseresh. Not for his idle small talk in cafes, not for his squinty glare, not for any part of him that hadn’t been shined up to an inch of its life. 

 

He wonders that evening, if Nahuseresh had found out somehow anyway. He was especially snippy with Kamet throughout the afternoon, even after the rhubarb meringue, and shifted into blatant belittling once they returned to their apartments. It was nothing unusual, just the casual jibes over Kamet’s slight accent, his slightly too sweet hand writing, his inability to read things from across the room. There was no point in pointing out that Nahuseresh knew he needed glasses, and knew as well that he was waiting on Nahuseresh for those glasses. He accepted them all carefully, sidestepping around his own feelings - damped down enough by constant exposure that it was no difficulty - and attempted to lead Nahuseresh’s mood into safer waters. He suggested they order in Nahuseresh’s favourite take out, and Nahuseresh throws his cellphone at him. Kamet catches it with his shoulder, refrains from wincing.   
How had he known about the drink? Did he know about the drink? Did he have people watching Kamet? Did he not trust Kamet? Was this about Kamet being so friendly with Gen? He knew that was a bad idea, knew Nahuseresh would not take kindly to Kamet wasting time on frivolity like discussing books with interns.   
“Have I really sunk so far in status that you think I should get fucking take out?” Nahuseresh was yelling, “look at Nahuseresh, he’s worth nothing more than a bucket of grease, is that what you think?” He threw his other cellphone. Kamet caught this one with his hands as he caught up with the true reason behind Nahuseresh’s foul mood. 

“No sir, no,” he said earnestly, “Gods above, you are the least lowly man I know,” he hastened to add, “I am so sorry, I was not thinking at all, I was letting my own stomach distract me, you are worth so much more than that.” Maybe this was overkill, and Nahuseresh didn’t usually appreciate overkill, but he did like seeing Kamet so obeisant.  
“Well thank heavens,” Nahuseresh snarled back sarcastically, “at least my assistant thinks I’m worth his time, that makes everything better.”   
At this point, the only thing that usually works here is to tell Nahuseresh that his boss doesn’t know what he’s talking about if he’s overlooking Nahuseresh’s talents, but even if that is always what he wants to hear, it doesn’t mean he’ll take it kindly.   
Kamet says it anyway, because if this foul mood is going to end with a few bruises, he’d prefer it to happen sooner rather than later, so they can move on with their evening.   
For a moment it looks like it might be one of those days in which Nahuseresh sniffs haughtily and agrees with Kamet, looks viciously pleased with the whole thing, and asks for dinner in the jacuzzi. He does spend a few seconds looking viciously pleased, but then his face contorts back into a grimace and he steps towards Kamet to grasp him roughly by the upper arm and tug him closer. His fingers dig in and Kamet is careful not to wince, not yet.

“I won’t have you so impertinently disrespectful to your betters, Kamet,” he growled, “I have the privilege of speaking my mind on manners such as this, but you-” here he began punctuating his words with brusque cuffs to his head, “have no fucking right.”   
Kamet agrees, not so quickly as to seem childish, but carefully and solemnly so Nahuseresh knows he understands. This is the way to douse the flames of anger, he’s discovered, treat it very seriously, show him you understand you were an idiot, let him handle you how he likes. As soon as he feels he’s in control of the situation he cools down very quickly. When he does, his hand stills on Kamet’s face, and even while the stinging from the last hit is still fresh, takes him gently by the chin and rubs his thumb over Kamet’s split lip, and now Kamet lets himself wince. Lets himself go softer in Nahuseresh’s hands so it’s obvious he defers to him, and Nahuseresh smiles.   
“You understand?” he asks gently, his grip on Kamet’s arm is still iron.   
“Yes sir,” Kamet replies, careful to let his voice waver, careful to glance up at Nahuseresh’s eyes and then away again.   
“Are you very hurt?” Nahuseresh asks, he releases Kamet’s arm now, brings that hand up to cup Kamet’s cheek, turns his head this way and that.   
“No sir,” Kamet says.  
“I don’t like hurting you, Kamet,” Nahuseresh says seriously, “but sometimes you make me so angry, there’s just no other choice.”   
“Yes sir,” Kamet says, lifts his aching arm so he can loop his shaking fingers over Nahuseresh’s wrist. Hopes this brief touch will be enough to end this tonight. Hopes they can break away from this mood as soon as possible and maybe get dinner.   
“So,” Nahuseresh says, does not move his hands from his face, “you want take out, do you?”   
“Oh,” Kamet says, “Sir, I will happily have whatever you want to have.”  
“Take out it is,” Nahuseresh says cheerfully, “I think you deserve it tonight.”


	4. Fox in the Henhouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to formally apologise for never editing anything ever and also never having a schedule.

It’s not as bad as it could be. Nowhere near as bad as it could be. And it’s not as if it’s all for nothing. Kamet knows this. Still, it doesn’t make the bruise on his jaw fade any quicker. Nahuseresh is rather adept at open handed slaps that have more sting than bruise, but every man has his faults, and Nahuseresh’s are evident in the purpling of Kamet’s skin. The finger shaped bruises on his bicep are easy enough, no one will see them under his shirt, but on his face he has to take time out of his schedule to cover it. Not even just once, but throughout the day, to make sure it’s still fully made up and out of sight, to make sure the foundation hasn’t become dusty and obvious. Has to remember not to rub his face, even when it’s aching. Kamet does not have so much free time to spend shut up in bathrooms staring anxiously at his face.   
On the bright side, Nahuseresh is in a wonderful mood. Before breakfast he eyes Kamet’s face, then trails his fingers over the bruise, fingers gentle, and smiles. He is always so pleased to see them, even though he is equally adamant that he doesn’t mean to make them. When Kamet finishes covering it, Nahuseresh eyes him up again, appraisingly and nods, his approval a sweet thing. 

Kamet knows no one else can tell. He know that the skin is smooth and unblemished, even under the harsh lights in the main offices. He knows no one is watching him any more carefully than usual. He plays the part of himself with excruciating care. Not that it is hard, rather, he’s overly aware that he is watching himself, needs himself to be perfect. If he isn’t, he’s going to worry too much about his face, he’s going to slip off to the bathroom more times than he needs to check his jaw. If he can be perfect to his own eyes, he will worry less. 

It is equally sickening and delightful how much softer Nahuseresh is to him after he leaves bruises. He smiles at Kamet more, drapes his arm over his shoulder to pull him closer, keeps him closer in the office rather than sending him away on miscellaneous errands throughout the day. Of course this also means that Kamet gets no time to himself, he is like an extra limb on Nahuseresh’s torso, anything Nahuseresh does today, Kamet will be there to hold whatever he’s passed. Kamet has learned, long ago, that while part of this is due to the fact that Nahuseresh is sorry, does want to make sure that Kamet is alright, the larger, more prominent reason he keeps him so close is to make sure Kamet does not slip. Does not let anyone else see him so vulnerable, doesn’t confide in anyone who might not understand their relationship the way they do. Kamet could tell Nahuseresh he didn’t need to worry, he could see himself more happily walking in front of a bus than willingly telling someone else about what happened behind closed doors, but, well. There was something nice about Nahuseresh wanting him close. Something nicer about the thought that Nahuseresh was worried sometimes that Kamet would leave him, because if he was worried about that, it meant that he did care, that he did need him. 

Still. It was a surprise when Nahuseresh intercepted Kamet as he was pulling his coat on to head to the cafe, quite looking forward to getting a brief moment to himself, and announced that he would be coming as well.   
He did a very good job of not looking disappointed in this news, smiled widely instead, and inquired as politely as possible as to why. He didn’t think it could all be due to Nahuseresh not wanting him out of his sight.   
“Irene will be coming to my party,” he replied, quite smug, holding his arms out to let Kamet put pull his coat onto him, “I thought I ought to go see her hobby for myself. I’ve heard she’s very fond of it, I want to be able to sweet talk her through her love of sweets.”   
“Wise,” Kamet comments.   
He hopes blindly that Costis has enough sense not to give him free snacks while accompanied by his boss. 

As their car pulled up to the cafe, Kamet was caught in an anxiety struggle over what he felt more protective over at this moment - was it the cafe he so desperately hoped that Nahuseresh would approve of? He might like their food and drink, but would he turn his nose up at the decor? The staff? The music? Or was it Nahuseresh he was worried the staff here would disapprove of. If he was rude to them, would they change how they interacted with Kamet? If he was in his charming mood, would they angle for him to come back more, robbing Kamet of his private outings? Would Costis dislike him? Not that any of that mattered, of course. If he had been alone at this point, he would have allowed his anxiety to carry him all the way through the cafe and out the other side in a vague haze of awareness - although if he had been alone he wouldn’t be anxious about this - but because he was with Nahuseresh, he quickly boxed up as many of his bounding thoughts as possible, and threw them out of his head.   
He led the way into the cafe, using one of his very carefully learned skills of leading while giving everyone else the appearance that he was the one being led. Nahuseresh liked leading. Kamet pretended to like following. 

As they entered the shop, Kamet’s heart performed an interesting set of acrobatics; first leaping when he saw Nahuseresh smiling approvingly around the entrance, then swooping down to his stomach as Nahuseresh frowned deeply at the handwritten signs - he prefered type, for a multitude of reasons, if you asked what these were, he would reply for over ten minutes. As they moved further in, along the cabinets, Nahuseresh examining their contents carefully to decide what he wanted - Kamet already knew what Nahuseresh wanted - Kamet looked past him to the counter where he could make out Costis, and his heart jumped up again, and then dropped heavy like a stone as he realised his heart had jumped. It dropped further again as he considered how likely he thought Nahuseresh wouldn’t take to him. Costis was too informal, his voice was tinged with too much country, his smile was too open. Either Nahuseresh would think him entirely backward, possibly irritating, or he would be smugly charmed. Both of these options rankled with Kamet. Nahuseresh was speaking to him, something something about raspberry tarts and the current season. Kamet nodded, hoped that was the right response, Nahuseresh smiled.

Kamet knew how Nahuseresh liked to wield his power, even in such small events such as cafe outings, and how he liked Kamet to defer.   
As they stepped up to the till, Kamet pointedly ignored Costis’ smile, directed to him. Instead looked back the way they came. Nahuseresh began his order, and Kamet felt Costis’ gaze leave him. He was very surprised when he heard Costis reply, his tone was clean, crisp, and extremely polite. He sounded, not quite just like, but very similar to the well moneyed interns at their office . Just the type of voice that nahuseresh would approve of. Kamet let himself look back at the two of them. Costis was smiling still, though it was like his voice, clean, crisp, polite - definitely not open. He was still staring, bemused, at the strange line of his lips, when both Costis and Nahuseresh turned to look at him.   
“Kamet?” Nahuseresh said, and from the polite irritation in his voice it was clear it wasn’t the first time he’d spoken.   
“Sorry?” Kamet replied, he shook his head just slightly, “Excuse me, I was distracted, I’m sorry. What was that?”   
He spoke directly to Nahuseresh, though he could feel Costis’ eyes heavy on him. Nahuseresh smiled, all teeth.   
“I asked what you were having?” Nahuseresh said, “You don’t expect me to sit here and eat while you watch me, are you?” he was wearing his expression that he kept just for Kamet. The expression which, to outsiders said; ‘I am a very pleasant man, having a very pleasant conversation with my slightly dimwitted assistant here’, but which said very clearly to Kamet; ‘we will be having words. Words that don’t involve speaking.’  
Kamet smiled brightly, shook his head appeasingly, did not look at Costis.   
“Just a chai for me, thank you,” he said to Nahuseresh. Nahuseresh repeated this to Costis. Costis looked from Kamet to Nahuseresh, back to Kamet.  
“Dirty?” he asked Kamet.   
Kamet, despite all his training and common sense, flushed.  
“Excuse me?” Nahuseresh asked tautly, he was not looking at Kamet and Kamet’s flush.   
Costis redirected his gaze to Nahuseresh and smiled his fake smile again.   
“Would you like that as a plain chai, a vanilla chai, a spiced chai, a dirty chai, or a chai frappe?”   
Nahuseresh tsked, whether at the sheer frippery of how many different types of chai there were, or at Costis’ pointedly polite tone, Kamet could not tell.   
Nahuseresh returned Costis’ polite smile, did not look at Kamet even as he spoke to him, choosing instead to look up at the ceiling, “How would you like your chai, Kamet?”   
It felt distinctly wrong to be having this experience.   
“Dirty,” he said. He wanted to mumble it, but he did not want to receive the expression again.   
Nahuseresh repeated the word in exactly the tone it described, and Costis then also repeated it, eyebrows raised.   
Nahuseresh handed his card over, Costis informed them that someone called Aliki would show them to their table.

Aliki turned out to be a very young woman who swept out from behind the partition at Costis’ voice, as if she had been waiting for her cue, and smiled somehow both sweet and seductive at Nahuseresh, who smiled back the same way.   
They were seated by the window directly opposite the counter Kamet was used to sitting at.   
The service was impeccable, as it always was when it wasn’t being carried out by Costis to Kamet, the food was delightful and as speedy as ever. Nahuseresh seemed to be greatly enjoying himself, Kamet was miserable.   
He facilitated Nahuseresh’s monologue - this too was a careful dance of concealment. Nahuseresh enjoyed his own company far more than he enjoyed anyone else's, and therefore enjoyed his own voice more as well - however he could not sit there and monologue in public without feeling idiotic, so it had to appear to be a dialogue. Kamet’s role in this farce was to make as many inadequate comments as possible to continue Nahuseresh’s flow, without actually impairing it. It would be nice if this meant he could zone out , but there were two very key reasons why he could not. Firstly, occasionally Nahuseresh would require an actually substantial answer, or at some later date would refer back to this conversation expecting Kamet to know exactly what he was talking about, and secondly, because every single thing Nahuseresh said could be useful for Kamet’s future. Most of it wasn’t, of course, but it all had potential, so Kamet listened intently and spoke as little as he could get away with.   
It was distressingly difficult to pay attention today - what with Costis across the room, most certainly judging Kamet, and probably Nahuseresh as well. Kamet hadn’t missed the array of expressions on Costis’ face, ranging from unimpressed all the way to pissed off in just the time it had taken Nahuseresh to stare at the ceiling and for Kamet to place the specifics of his order. Perhaps at the very least this might mean that Costis would discontinue his habit of gifting Kamet with food and drink. 

Once they were back in the car, heading to the office, Nahuseresh turned to smile at him. Kamet smiled uneasily back.   
“I think this trip was well worth it,” he announced, “it was a very charming place, perhaps a little rustic yes, but enjoyable enough that I think I will have enough to flatter Irene about.”   
Kamet smiled a little less uneasily. Nahuseresh continued to smile at him.   
“You disappointed me in there,” he said easily, his smile soft, “not paying attention to me. Stuttering like that.”   
“I’m sorry,” Kamet replied, couldn’t decide whether he ought to still be smiling.   
“I had hoped,” Nahuseresh continued, “that after last night you would be a little more...perceptive. I don’t want to have to discipline you again. Not so soon.”   
He was speaking so softly it was almost difficult to hear him, more difficult to reconcile the threat behind the words to the tone. Kamet knew the softness was for the benefit of the driver - so he wouldn’t overhear, or if he did, could very easily pretend he hadn’t.   
“I’m sorry, sir,” Kamet said again, let his voice go soft as well, for different reasons to Nahuseresh, let his face go soft too, dropped his smile. “I have no excuse. I truly am sorry. I’ll do better.”   
“You will,” Nahuseresh agreed, and then, it was over. 

Nahuseresh did not endeavour to keep Kamet close to him the next day, but Kamet made sure to stay in sight at all times anyway. This was a game as well, or, like a game it had rules to follow, and required at least two players, but it wasn’t fun. This game was that Nahuseresh was still trying to be soft to Kamet after the takeout incident, but not too soft because Kamet had fallen short of expectations yesterday. This meant that if Kamet were in the room Nahuseresh would be polite to him, but would not ask him to stay, or provide excuses for Kamet to stay close - however, if Kamet were to leave, Nahuseresh would be angry. Kamet knew the rules, and he was quite a skilled player, so he stayed close. Of course, with all games there is an element of luck, or in Kamet’s case, misfortune. His particular misfortune wasn’t surprising, it was simply part of his everyday routine. To get Nahuseresh’s afternoon tea, he had to leave the building, leave Nahuseresh who, despite his unspoken wish that Kamet stay close, would not be accompanying him today, and would not approve of Kamet sending anyone else. 

He bumped into Gen on his way to the lifts. He had obviously just been on his way back downstairs from delivering papers or something, and when he spotted Kamet, he joined him in the lift. Kamet punched in Gen’s floor number, and then ground, and smiled wearily .  
“You look… tired,” Gen said in favour of a hello.   
Kamet shrugged, reached one hand unconsciously to just below his eye as if through touch he would be able to tell if his makeup was no longer covering the bruising. His fingers stopped just before they touched skin, and he dropped his arm back down.   
“I am,” he replied, then, “you look awfully pleased with yourself today. What have you done?”   
Gen had been following the movement of Kamet’s hand with a narrow expression, but now he smiled widely again.  
“Do I really look so pleased?” he asked.   
Kamet snorted, “like the cat who got the cream and the canary.”  
“I just received a nice message is all,” Gen smiled, he patted his pocket.   
“Oh,” Kamet said. He recognised the expression now for what it was, “A lady, then?” he asked, aware of his own awkward tone. Gen laughed at him.   
“No,” he said, then frowned at himself, “well, yes, but-” he paused as if he had to reconfigure his thoughts. Kamet waited, pleased that he was not the only awkward one in the lift anymore. Also pleased that no one else was in the lift with them to hear this exchange - it did not exactly suit Kamet’s polished appearance.  
“It’s connected to her in a way,” Gen was saying, “but not directly. Tell me, do you still really think that chapter twelve was meant to end that way as an example of mutability, or were you saying that simply to annoy me?”   
“I think you are the one trying to annoy me,” Kamet replied, allowing himself to be distracted, and plunged straight back into his case. When the lift doors opened at the floor of the intern’s offices, Kamet barely noticed as Gen pressed the doors closed again. They argued genially down to the ground floor, and then out to the foyer, and then Kamet stopped guiltily.   
“Oh,” he said, “I am sorry, I completely forgot myself. I did not mean to drag you all the way out here.”   
“No one drags me anywhere,” Gen replied cheerfully, “well, my family does. Or they try to. I’m finished for the day, I don’t have to be anywhere.”   
“Oh,” Kamet said again, he could see his car and driving idling outside, “well,” he said, “would you like to continue this argument in the car?”   
“You really want me to keep proving you wrong?” Gen snarked back and Kamet resisted the urge to laugh.   
“No, I want to have enough time to loop back to where I’m proving you wrong,” he countered and Gen didn’t bother curbing his own laugh.   
“Where are you headed?” he asked, jerking his head through the door.  
“I’m picking up Nahuseresh’s afternoon tea, at the Conspiracy Room,” Kamet said, “I think you would like it there.”   
“Oh,” Gen’s smile, which had been a constant throughout their conversation, slipped momentarily, “well I do like the Conspiracy Room, yes, but they don’t like me,” he said dolefully.  
Now this was surprising, Gen was somewhat… irritating, yes, but generally entertaining to talk to, as well as clever. He very much wanted to ask what had happened, but Gen’s smile was back on his face and he was patting Kamet’s shoulder.  
“You’ll have to lose this argument another time, dear Kamet,”  
“Indeed.” He put his own smile back on his face and directed it at Gen before striding out the door to his waiting car.


	5. Turn Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yes i am still writing this - i just handed in my friggin huge honours assignment and i have like 4 weeks of class left and then i am graduated - this is my excuse for being tardy, and also a moment for me to brag thank you for listening.

Costis was behind the counter. He was always behind the counter. With his stupid face.   
“Kamet,” he said as Kamet approached, and then, before Kamet had a chance to formulate a reply, said, “so, was that your boyfriend or your boss?”  
“Excuse me?”  
“The man you came in with yesterday,” he was tapping his fingers against the till, “with the spiky beard. He ordered for you so I thought he might be your boyfriend, but,” he shrugged, “he ordered the exact drink you get for your boss.”   
“I don’t think this is any of your business,” Kamet replied archly, well aware that his face was pinkening under the concealer, hoping it wasn’t noticeable.   
“No,” Costis said, he sounded strangely abashed, “it isn’t. I’m sorry,” he offered. He looked like he had more to say, but Kamet didn’t think he could deal with a conversation like this today. His mind already felt stretched thin with tension. He held his hand up, shook his head.   
“It’s fine,” he said, “I just want to order. The apple raspberry turnovers, and the usual drink please, seeing as you know it so well.”   
Costis nodded.   
“Please,” Kamet tacked on, very unwillingly, “I don’t want anything for myself.”   
Costis nodded. 

At the waiting counter, Kamet pulled his phone out of his pocket, planning on checking the notes from this morning’s meeting for any points he needed to follow up on, and was immediately distracted by a text from an unknown number. It simply read;

-Sophocles isn’t as clever as he or you think he is.

Kamet stared at it for a very long moment, knowing who it was from and being caught between amusement and horror.   
He replied;

~Neither are you

His phone buzzed again far too quickly.

-still swiped your phone in the lift and texted myself though.  
Kamet frowned. Pressed into the message thread, and immediately dropped his face into his hand, horror and amusement warring further. His phone had indeed texted this number first. Gen had texted himself this; 

~Gen iz kool

He assumed it was ironic. 

~You are infantile. 

-Oh   
-how upsetting  
-to think you could be so cruel  
-kamet i trusted you  
-you sound just like my cousins  
-maybe you are a cousin  
-i have so many it would make sense that you are  
-would also explain why your sense of humour is dreadful  
-i’m the only funny one in my family

His texts were like a waterfall of idiocy. Phone vibrating grumpily in one hand, he pressed the heel of his other hand into his eye, and then dragged it down his face in an attempt to curtail his laughter. He replied;

~I hope and pray we are not related. 

Gen’s reply was, again, extremely quick.

-Kamet, my dear, i am wounded.

~You’ll live.

-Not happily, i won’t. 

He barely knew this man. He’d met him a mere handful of times. It was inane that he felt comfortable enough with him to be having this ridiculous text conversation. Of course, he thought, even their first meeting had been stupidly intimate, with Gen knowing his name, and his timetable, and his need for glasses. Gen had managed to slip his way into Kamet’s trust by simply pretending as if they were already close, and it had worked. It shouldn’t have, but it had. Kamet felt like he ought to be embarrassed about this. He already felt guilty about it, it would only make sense to feel ashamed about how quickly he had allowed himself to be drawn into what was unmistakably a friendship.  
He looked up in time for Costis to not startle him with the box and drink, and allowed himself a moment of relief in the midst of his self-berating, Costis did not look as if he had included any extras.   
He stood up, slipping his phone back into his jacket pocket, and rearranged his face into a more impersonal smile as he held his hands out for the food.   
“Thank you,” he said in prompting when Costis did not immediately hand the box over.   
“Who did that to your face?” Costis replied, frowning.   
Kamet’s first impulse, as it usually was, was to lie and avoid.   
“What? Nothing’s wrong with my face.”   
“There wasn’t five minutes ago,” Costis agreed, still not handing over the box, “now you have an impressively large bruise.”   
This time when Kamet’s hand darted to his face he didn’t stop it before his fingers touched skin. It was easy enough to feel the lack of makeup, to realise he had smeared the concealer off only moments before in distraction. He stared down at his hand, all amusement lingering had now completely faded, but the horror had not. His hand was smudged with concealer. His jaw, his cheek felt as if it were burning from being exposed.   
“O-oh,” he said to his hand, exhaled all the air in his lungs, “oh.” 

He barely registered Costis moving in beside him, putting the box and cup down on the counter. He was too busy staring at his hand, too busy trying to breathe in, too busy thinking about how careful he usually was. He spent his entire life being careful, he could keep a calm and impressive composure in front of anyone Nahuseresh did business with. Yet, here he was fucking it all up in a cafe in the middle of nowhere Attolia. If anyone in this cafe was someone who knew Nahuseresh, this would get back to him, people would gossip out it, it would get strung out into variations of the truth until the truth didn’t matter at all. It would be more than humiliating, it would be dangerous. He knows that the best thing he can do at this moment is to excuse himself to the bathroom, touch up his foundation, brush Costis’ concern off, leave. No one else will notice if he doesn’t make a fuss of it. But he can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t look away from his hand. He doesn’t realise he’s shaking until Costis’ hand on his shoulder is steadying him. He lets Costis lead him away from the counter, thinks Costis said where they were going, but he didn’t hear him, or didn’t understand, or couldn’t understand. His brain automatically switches to his birth tongue when he’s panicked. He’s still staring at his hand even while Costis guides him across the back of the cafe and through a door, into a hallway, out of a hallway, and then into a courtyard where the cool of the air smashes straight into the heat in Kamet’s cheeks. 

He sits on a bench, Costis’ hand pressing him gently down onto it, a glass of water being pressed into the hand he is still staring at. He wraps his shaking fingers around it, the movement jarring him out of his head. He still can’t look up. If anyone important had seen that, had seen how easily he had completely fallen out of control, had seen the marks on his face, if anyone had seen. He couldn’t finish his sentences, even in his own head, the ends of them kept trailing away out of his reach. They all circled, floating back to, if anyone had seen, did anyone see, if anyone saw, did they-   
“Kamet,” Costis is saying, “Kamet. You’re all right. No one saw you. Should I call someone for you?”   
He wonders how much of his panic he had vocalised. Shame burns hot in his stomach, cold in his fingers. He still can’t look up.   
“No,” he says, there’s no one he can call. No one he is willing to let know how weak he is. Nahuseresh is the only one who knows how weak he is, doesn’t like other people knowing, says that belongs to him. Nahuseresh can’t know.   
“Work friends?” Costis is saying, “Your boss? Family?”   
“No,” Kamet says again, flexes his fingers against glass.   
“Drink,” Costis says. Kamet takes a careful sip. Lets it sit cool on his tongue. He swallows and finally tips his head back to look at Costis, sitting on the bench next to him.   
“Alright?” Costis says.   
Kamet wonders if this whole situation would be less embarrassing if this was a different cafe, or a different person. If this was Aliki, or Phresine sitting next to him with naked concern on their face, or if he were in some nameless coffee shop.   
“Yes,” he says, can’t make himself look Costis in the eye, so he settles his gaze on his cheekbones instead, “I’m sorry.”   
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Costis replies firmly, and Kamet exhales something close to a laugh.   
“I just caused a ridiculous scene in the middle of your shop,” he said to Costis’ cheek, “I doubt your clientele appreciates witnessing meltdowns.”   
“I doubt they noticed,” Costis said, “if that was a meltdown it was incredibly quiet. I don’t think I would have noticed if I wasn’t standing right there.”   
That was a comfort at least. He mumbled as much and Costis’ hand returned to his shoulder.   
“Truly,” he said, “No one noticed, you’re fine.”   
He wasn’t fine. He’d panicked in front of a near stranger, got concealer all over his hands, accidentally showed off his bruise, and also left his emergency make up in his bag in the car. He wasn’t fine, and Costis was an idiot for saying so. His face must have been a little too telling, because Costis smiled sheepishly and shrugged.   
“Maybe not fine,” he agreed, “but nobody else saw.”   
Kamet could do nothing about this but hope it was true. He nodded, swallowed, closed his eyes in an attempt to ground himself a little further. He needed to get out of here. He needed to fix his face. He needed to get back to Nahuseresh. He didn’t have any good options here though. He needed his concealer, and his concealer was in his bag, in the car. He couldn’t go out to his car, couldn’t risk being seen again. Even if he managed to get to his car without anyone noticing the bruising, the driver would notice. He would almost certainly mention that to someone else. Neither could he send Costis to fetch his bag for him, that might raise questions. No matter what he did, something was going to go wrong.   
Costis was asking him something.   
“Sorry,” Kamet mumbles, opens his eyes again, “could you repeat that, please?”   
“You said something about concealer,” Costis said, “someone here probably has some you could borrow.”   
“Um,” Kamet said.   
“Aglaia has similar colouring,” Costis continues thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed, “and she’s in the kitchen now. Would you like me to go ask?”   
“No,” Kamet replies quickly, before he can actually consider the offer. Costis doesn’t seem phased. “I- wait,” he stutters, immediately berates himself for stuttering. This is probably the best option. The concealer probably won’t be quite the right shade, it’ll probably look stupid, but it would also probably hold him over until he can get some privacy. “Ok, yes. That would be wonderful, please.”   
“Alright,” Costis says, pats his knee a little awkwardly, “will you be alright if I leave you here a moment?”   
Kamet gapes at him a little. “Yes.”   
“Alright,” Costis says again, stands up, “drink,” he says, and leaves swiftly. 

The concealer is a few shades too dark for him, and he puts it on a little blotchy. His hands are shaky, and he only has the small compact mirror that Costis is holding up for him to see what he’s doing. Costis had suggested he could do it in the bathroom, but that involved the possibility of other people seeing, and he had already ruled that out. The coffee is going to be cold by the time he gets it to Nahuseresh. He was already on unspoken parole, this was only going to further sour Nahuseresh’s mood towards him. Maybe he could sit in this little courtyard forever. He could get a job here in the kitchen. Maybe not in the kitchen, he had no cooking skills whatsoever. He could be a waiter. He was blowing things out of proportion. He was going to be fine. He was going to be fine.   
“Are you going to be ok?” Costis asked once Kamet had put down the makeup brush. Not satisfied with his work, but acknowledging that it wouldn’t get any better.   
“Yes,” he said firmly. “Yes. Although I should order another coffee, I shouldn’t take a cold one.”   
He stands, Costis stands as well and makes to lead the way back into the main cafe, “Of course,” he says, “I already dropped the original. A new one is being made. I checked with Aglaia when I went in.”   
“Oh,” Kamet said, surprised, “that’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”  
Costis simply smiles at him. His smiles are always too big. Kamet smiles back, can’t quite manage anything more than a small smile.   
The turnover box and a fresh coffee are waiting for Kamet as he re-enters the cafe, and he scoops them up quickly before making his way over to the till. He only gets a few feet away when Costis stops him quick a touch to his arm.   
“It’s free of charge,” he says, “seeing as I dropped the first one.”   
“You didn’t,” Kamet pointed out.  
“No,” Costis says, “I did. I took it to the kitchen and dropped it. I’m very clumsy.”  
Kamet knows he ought to say thank you. He ought to say thank you, and leave, and find a new cafe to get Nahuseresh’s food from.   
“Why?” Kamet asks, “Why bother doing this much for me when I barely even talk to you?”   
If Costis is surprised, or even offended by this outburst, he doesn’t look it. Just shrugs one shoulder.   
“It’s part of my job,” he says calmly, “and also, I’ve enjoyed the few words you’ve said to me.”   
This man is impossible.   
“Well,” Kamet says, “thank you.”


	6. Dirty Chai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you are probably aware that I am in a TRC fic writing mood currently, so, sorry this has been shuffled to the side a bit! I swear I'm not abandoning it, it's just slow going. xxx

It feels truly impossible, the contrast between his panic and horror at the cafe and Nahuseresh’s ignorance over it back at the office. He doesn’t even seem to notice that Kamet has come in later than usual, doesn’t seem to notice the botched makeup, doesn’t seem to notice Kamet’s trembling hands. This means that it’s easy enough to slip away into the bathroom soon after he arrives back, to redo his face, to ease back into his facsimile of comfort.

By some miracle, the rest of the day passes smoothly, Kamet keeps up his facade, Nahuseresh appears perfectly happy, the company doesn’t run into any hiccups. It’s good. 

Kamet spends the evening finalising details for the party Nahuseresh is hosting, Nahuseresh spends the evening with one of his girls; which serves to leave him even further relaxed, and to give Kamet ample time to himself while he does his planning. 

It also gives him ample time to think back on his humiliation at the cafe. He does not want to go back. Can’t bear the thought of facing Costis again. Can’t bear knowing that Costis has seen him at his most pathetically vulnerable, doesn’t want to know how Costis will use this to his advantage. However, he has no other option. He has no reason to give Nahuseresh to convince him to change cafes. Especially not when Nahuseresh was so set on seducing Attolia into a business merger using her cafe as a conversation starter. It would be useless if they stopped eating from there so soon before the party. Neither could Kamet delegate this job to anyone else, Nahuseresh was both suspicious and perfectionist about his food - he trusted no one else to deliver to him exactly what he wanted. Usually this filled Kamet with pride, right now it was just irritating. 

Despite the fact that it’s something he doesn’t really do, he’s gripped with the desire to be able to share his own embarrassment with someone, as if doing so will get it out of his head, make it less potent. There have been very few people in his life he’s been comfortable enough with to let his guard even slightly down around, and the majority of them he had left behind in the capital. It’s against his better judgement that, after he’s lain in bed for over an hour staring at his ceiling, he rolls over and texts Gen. 

~I think you and I both are no longer welcome at the Conspiracy Room. 

Somehow both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, an answer appears on his phone almost immediately. 

-Did you get into an argument with a waiter about the true meaning of Sophocles’ mentions of Aristophanes? 

~Funnily enough, no. 

He isn’t sure what he thought he was doing, it’s not as if he can actually tell Gen what really happened at the cafe. He’s going to have to make up a story and lie about it, and then risk being caught in the lie. Not that that’s likely if Gen doesn’t even go to the Conspiracy Room. 

-colour me intrigued. 

~What colour is intrigue?

-generally a deep purple i find. stop stalling kamet, what terrible crime did you commit? did you use the wrong spoon?

~Ha. 

-did you accidentally smear your concealer off?

This cannot be just a lucky guess. Gen shouldn’t even have known he was wearing concealer, had no way of knowing this. Can’t have known what had happened unless he had been there, unless someone had told him what had happened. This meant that either Costis was wrong and someone had seen this happen, which meant that the story was already travelling around the interns at Mede towers somehow, which meant he would soon have no respect from them, which meant that Nahuseresh would almost certainly find out.   
Or, it meant that Costis, or maybe Aglaia, had told someone and it was spreading that way.   
Both of these options were terrifying, although one of them hurt more than the other. 

Gen texts him again when he doesn’t respond. 

-kamet, i saw you when you returned from the cafe. your concealer was a different shade.

~You said you were finished for the day when I was leaving. 

-i was, but i left some paper work, i was leaving again when you got in. 

This still doesn’t read right, it’s too much of an insight for anyone to have made with only the information Gen had. Still. Gen had also known he needed glasses, known what books he would like, known what his expressions meant. It was unnerving to be so known, and it made him angrily suspicious. 

~What do you want?

-usually i just want a nice meal and a good nap. 

~Drop the pretence, Mr Noble. I don’t know what angle you’re trying to play here, but I will discover it. I am willing to pay you off to keep this information to yourself, so simply tell me how much you want. 

-oh kamet.   
-i’m not going to tell anyone anything  
-partly because i don’t know anything of fault about you to tell, and partly because i don’t want to fault you to anyone  
-i understand you may find this hard to believe  
-but i’m not going to betray your friendship like that  
-also i don’t think anyone has ever called me mr noble and i’ve decided i definitely don’t like it.   
-let’s make this even playing ground, shall we?   
-i’m only working for mede towers because my family is indebted to them, and i’m working the debt off  
-that’s why i’m working as an unpaid intern   
-but i’m not staying  
-i hate it here. 

Most of Kamet tells him that he should absolutely not believe anything Gen is telling him, that he’s too clever and worked too hard to allow himself to be hoodwinked by some intern. An extremely loud part of him, however, just wants to accept that Gen truly is his friend. 

~What about your family’s debt?

-if i’m nowhere to be found i’m confident that Mede towers will agree to another form of payment. my family can afford that. 

~This is a very odd situation you’re in. And a very awkward one you’re putting me in.

-i trust you kamet.

~You barely know me.

-call it a gut feeling. 

~More like an idiot feeling.

-that too.   
-i think that you’re probably more horrified by your concealer incident than anyone at the cafe you know

~I’m sure I am. 

-who was serving you?

~Why do you want to know? 

-just because they don’t like me, doesn’t mean i don’t know them. 

~Costis.

-ahhhhh. ok good you’re completely fine. 

~What makes you say that?

-he’s far too nice to ever care about something so frivolous as makeup. he’s probably just hoping he didn’t offend you or something.   
-listen to me, i have great character judgment. 

~You two aren’t friends, are you? 

-hahahahahahahahahahahahahaa  
-hahahah  
-i wish  
-he hates me  
-one day

 

 

Nahuseresh is in a very good mood the next morning, good enough that he has no qualms about letting Kamet take his lunch break during lunch break time, doesn’t seem to be caught up still on Kamet’s foolishness, or Kamet’s bruises.   
This suits him today. He feels the need, more than ever, to just get out of the offices so he can be alone and away from prying eyes. He doesn’t usually feel so easily breakable after a beating, certainly doesn’t usually end up in public panic attacks, and he thinks it’s all due to a culmination to the stress of moving to an entirely new place and Nahuseresh’s position becoming somewhat rocky within it. It will pass soon. He just has to get through these initial hurdles, wait until Nahuseresh passes the merger, takes control of Attolia, becomes confident again in his job, then things will be ok. 

He probably should have guessed that because he wanted to be alone, Gen would almost certainly be in the gardens as well.   
“You’re wearing your work clothes today,” Kamet observes, only barely glancing sideways as Gen joins him on the path, “you almost look respectable.” 

“I had meetings all morning,” Gen yawns back, “I’ve only just gotten away.” 

“Tell me,” Kamet says, far too openly, “why does Costis hate you?” 

“Ah,” Gen says, grins now as he steps ahead of Kamet and swivels to walk backwards so he can watch Kamet while he talks. “He doesn’t like me because he thinks my fiance is too good for me.” 

“Oh?” Kamet frowns, “He wants to date her?” 

“Oh,” Gen laughs, “gods, no. Well, I think most people want to date her actually, but that’s not the reason. He respects her hugely, and he thinks I’m a bit of an asshole. Which is true.”

“Alright,” Kamet says, frowns still, “that’s the reason why?” 

“Well,” Gen swivels round again, shrugs hugely, “I almost might have almost gotten him fired the second time we met, but honestly, that was months ago now! Who holds grudges that long?” 

Kamet gapes after him, and is both relieved and irritated when Gen looks over his shoulder to grin widely at him. It sounds like he’s joking, but he’s not sure about which bit. 

“Why,” Kamet asks again, “do you dislike it so much here? Not that I like it much either, but I thought this might be more your scene.” 

“No one likes me here,” Gen replies mournfully, “not that that’s much of a change from home, let’s be honest, but at least I knew they loved me if they didn’t like me.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kamet scoffs, “I’ve seen you with the other interns, they seem to think you’re fantastic.” 

“Oh right,” Gen rolls his eyes, “no, they think Gen the intern is fantastic. They don’t really like me.” 

“I think you’re being pedantic,” Kamet says, “and maybe a little childish.” 

“Ah,” Gen says happily, “you sound just like home.” 

Kamet scoffs again. If they hadn’t both been wearing carefully pressed suits, and if Kamet wasn’t Kamet, maybe he would have leaned over and playfully shoved Gen’s shoulder. 

“I’ll help,” Kamet says. 

“Help with what?” Gen asks, raises just one eyebrow. 

“Help you leave,” Kamet says, shrugs, “if you like, and if I’m not putting the company in jeopardy by doing so.” 

“My leaving won’t put the company in jeopardy,” Gen says, “I appreciate the offer.” 

“I appreciate your friendship,” Kamet replies, and if his tone is a little stiff, it’s not due to lack of honesty. 

When Gen turns and smiles at him, Kamet is suddenly struck with the realisation that the grins he’d been granted before were most absolutely not real in comparison to this. When Gen smiled it made him look both younger and older at once, it made Kamet feel better about trusting him. Of course, as soon as the smile disappeared, so did this feeling of ease. 

“Why do you dislike it here?” Gen asks now, throwing Kamet’s question back at him. 

“I-” Kamet sighed, “this is no insult to you, you are the exception of course, but I have no one here to talk to. The majority of staff are new, I have to rebuild my place among them. Both professionally and otherwise. It’s a lot of work while trying to settle both my myself and Nahuseresh into a new environment.” 

“Hm,” Gen says, “Nahuseresh quite relies on you, doesn’t he?” 

“I am his personal assistant,” Kamet points out dryly. 

“Indeed.” 

 

He really doesn’t want to go back to the Conspiracy Room today. He had accepted that of course he would have to return, he just wished he could somehow skip today, give his humiliation a little time to settle and Costis a little time to forget it. 

To his horror, Costis notices him as soon as he walks in. To make it worse, Costis looks entirely shocked. Luckily for Kamet, he’s spent his entire life learning to ignore his and others’ discomfort, and just continue on with the task at hand. 

“Almond parfait please,” Kamet says smoothly once he reaches Costis, “and the usual drink.” 

Costis’ eyes are fixed on Kamet’s cheek. He has to resist the urge to lift his hand and cover it. 

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” Costis admits far too honestly.

“I didn’t want to,” Kamet replies in the same vein.

“Well,” Costis says, he’s finally slipping back into the smile that Kamet is used to, “I am glad you did.” 

“I’ll have a dirty chai, too,” Kamet hears his mouth saying in response. Costis’ smile gets bigger, but he doesn’t comment. 

“That’ll be five minutes,” he says cheerfully, “I’ll bring it out to you soon.” 

As soon as Kamet reaches the counter he begins berating himself. He knows he doesn’t have time to drink the whole chai before he reaches work again, he’s done this before. He’s encouraging Costis when he knows he shouldn’t be. He’s not exactly sure what he’s encouraging Costis in doing, but he knows, he knows he shouldn’t. At least Gen was someone he worked with, someone who could make up an excuse for talking to. Nahuseresh wouldn’t be pleased if he found out how friendly Kamet was being with Gen, but he’d be far less pleased if he found out the same thing with Kamet and Costis. It wouldn’t do.   
Unless of course he thought that maybe if Kamet had an in in Attolia’s business, he could get something out of it. Which wouldn’t exactly work through the cafe, so never mind.   
He attempts to distract himself from his useless thoughts by running through the notes for the afternoon’s meetings. He doesn’t get very far before Costis is by his elbow. 

“It’s barely been two minutes,” Kamet says, glancing at the time on his phone, “is the cafe slower today?” 

“No,” Costis shrugs, hands him just one cup, “I just finished your chai first, thought you might like to begin it before you have to leave.” 

“Oh,” Kamet says. It’s not exactly as if it will give him that much extra time to finish it, but it’s still nice. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Costis smiles, then, “I’m sorry about yesterday.” 

Kamet would prefer to speak about yesterday. He looks at the cup instead. 

“I realised afterwards that Aglaia probably wasn’t the best match, I should have asked Illeia maybe.”

“Oh,” Kamet says, “the concealer. It was fine,” he says, not too much of a lie, shakes his head, “I was not expecting a perfect match.” 

“Still,” Costis says, shrugs, “I hope it didn’t cause any further problems.” 

He’s treading too close. 

“No,” Kamet says carefully, offers Costis a small smile, “it didn’t.” 

“Good,” Costis smiles back, “I’ll bring the rest of your order out in a minute.” 

Kamet goes back to his notes. 

He tries to pretend he’s not pleased. 

When Costis comes back again, this time with a box and Nahuseresh’s drink, he’s wearing a contemplative expression. Kamet cocks an eyebrow at it as he takes his order. 

“I’m sure you are already aware of this,” Costis begins, “but your boss has hired us to cater a party next weekend.”

“I happen to be arranging it,” Kamet says, “so yes I am aware.” 

“Right,” Costis nods, “would you find it awkward if I was there as one of the servers?” 

“No?” Kamet says slowly, “Why would I find that awkward?” 

“He’s just trying to get out of it,” Phresine chips in as she walks past with her tea pot, “he hates parties. So boring.” 

Costis flushes. 

“No,” he says, “I just - you seemed uncomfortable interacting with your boss and me when he came here. I thought you might prefer it if that was a scenario unlikely to happen again.” 

Possibly Costis was more perceptive than Kamet had been given him credit for. 

“Oh,” he says, “that wasn’t about you.” It’s only vaguely a lie, “if you want me to say I would find it awkward so you don’t have to go, I will, but I don’t mind it.” 

“I think I’ll come,” Costis says slowly, “if you don’t mind it.” 

“Alright,” Kamet nods, gestures to the door, “I had better go. Nahuseresh is waiting.” 

“Yes,” Costis nods, “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“I suppose so,” Kamet says over his shoulder as he leaves. 

 

There’s more party arrangements to be made when he gets back to the office. Nahuseresh has decided that he’s going all out, and the head offices back the merger so they’re providing the funding for it. Today’s tasks, in between the afternoon’s meetings, are arranging floral decorations and the live music. Nahuseresh had been angling for traditional Medean music, which would have involved bringing a band in out of town, but Kamet had carefully persuaded him that in the interests of winning Irene over, Attolian music might be best. He just has to hope that Irene, being a full blooded Attolian, would enjoy that. He almost wished he’d had the foresight to ask Costis if he knew what her music taste was, but then, that would probably have been quite unprofessional. He texts Gen instead. Always good to get an insider opinion. 

~Do you know of any local bands that would be appropriate for a Mede/Attolia party?

Gen replies promptly.

-depends. do you want the party to be a flop or a hit?

~I’m worried that you have to ask. A hit. But a somewhat formal hit. 

-trying to impress irene attolia, yes? 

~Apparently she is the key to a Mede/Attolia merger, so yes. 

-alright. because I like you, i’ll tell you.  
-she’s especially fond of a musician called dite.   
-i’ll send you his contact details. 

~Thank you.  
~This isn’t an elaborate prank, is it?

-i’m currently too tired for elaborate pranks. i promise. dite and his band are the best.   
-even if i don’t really like them.   
-or rather, i don’t like dite. 

~Do you like anyone?

-i like my fiance.  
-and apparently you.  
-am i supposed to like more people?  
-really my problem is that people don’t like me.

~Well I suppose at least you like your fiance.


	7. :) :) :)

Kamet books Dite and his band, is pleasantly surprised that as far as he can tell, Dite is a well known and respected musician, and has publicly played at Attolia’s events previously. He thinks that maybe, (just maybe), he ought to give Gen a little more credit. He thinks this until Sunday afternoon.

He’s at home, finalising some plans for the party. There’s still 6 days to go, but he likes to have everything set in stone and perfect with back up plans in place so that there’s no way the party can fail in a way that could be pinned on him. He’s in his bedroom (tiny, a desk shoved into the corner so he can pretend it’s an office) when Nahuseresh barges in behind him. 

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Nahuseresh begins, already angry all but frothing at the mouth. Kamet has no idea what he’s doing that could have prompted such aggravation. Certainly nothing at this very moment, possibly this is to do with Gen, or maybe with the chais at the cafe, with Costis, with-

“What were you even thinking,” Nahuseresh carries on, “hiring the son of Attolia’s largest threat?” 

“What?” Kamet gapes, forgets his manners for a moment in his surprise. 

“That stupid band you hired,” Nahuseresh spits out, “Dite. Erondite. You fool. That’s the competing business in town, you know that, you really what to make Irene think me an idiot? To think that I’m winding her up?” 

“No,” Kamet blusters, twisting in his seat so he can hold his hands out in what he hopes looks like an apology to Nahuseresh. He doesn’t think that he can just admit that he didn’t know that. That he didn’t realise Dite was from the Company of Erondite. Nahuseresh would not be softened by his ignorance. “No, Sir, no,” he says quickly, brain hurting, “quite the opposite! You see, I thought-” he has to take a moment to breathe, to figure out exactly what he’s about to lie about thinking, “-I thought that if we hired Dite that would show Irene exactly what we thought of Erondite. That he and his company is only fit to serve our 2 companies, to entertain us at our own parties, rather than to be privy to an invitation.” 

Nahuseresh continues to glare at him, but his eyes are less angry now, they’re flitting about while he thinks. The most important thing to remember about Nahuseresh, Kamet thinks to himself, as he’s thought many, many times, is that he is actually exceedingly clever. He’s intelligent, well educated, and quick thinking, which is how (aside from his money and family connections) he rose so quickly in the company, how he holds so much power. He’s very clever, and therefore, there is no point in trying to outwit him with fancy words or convoluted plots, instead, you have to poke your plans at his weaker spots. His weaker spots being, his knowledge of his own cleverness, of his own importance. He knows so well how intelligent he is, that he finds it difficult to believe any one can outwit him. To outwit him, you had to play up your own ignorance. 

“Of course, Kamet continues, casting his eyes to the ground and dropping his voice low in demural, “I can’t claim to have thought of this myself, I’ve simply been listening to you discuss how you wish to handle this merger, and realised that you would want to prove to Irene that you have no interest in Erondite, except of course, as a public servant, to further your and her needs.” 

Nahuseresh snorts, crosses his arms. “You are right,” he says primly, “that is indeed what I wanted. You would do better to run these things past me first, however,” he adds, still very cross, “I wouldn’t want to have hurt you in my irritation.” 

“No, sir,” Kamet agrees, very serious, “I am sorry, sir.” 

“No matter,” Nahuseresh says, suddenly all a light breeze and cheerfulness, “you will just have to hope that Erondite won’t find this too insulting to consider joining forces after I have merged with Attolia.” 

“Oh,” Kamet says, “yes. I am sorry, sir.” 

“Cheer up,” Nahuseresh says, “you can save your apologies for after you fuck up next.” 

“Yes, sir,” Kamet says. 

“Speaking of which,” Nahuseresh says, “how is your face healing? I haven’t seen you out of your girly make up for days.” 

“Oh,” Kamet says, feels himself blushing, “it ought to be cleared by next weekend,” he says, “I’m sorry, sir, it’s fading a little slower than usual. I can lessen the make up if you would prefer?” 

“Gods, no,” Nahuseresh scoffs, “and have you walking around the offices all green and purple like mixed grapes? I think not. Anyway, I like you all pretty.” 

“Yes, sir.” Kamet says. 

 

-

 

As soon as Nahuseresh has left him alone again, a good half hour later, Kamet texts Gen. He’s pissed off, and… no, just pissed off. 

~Why would you tell me to hire Dite when his FATHER has been attempting to take over the Attolia business for the last few decades?  
~Are you actually trying to get me fired?

-i told you to hire dite because he’s irene’s favourite musician, and she doesn’t care that his father is an asshole. He’s very publicly against his father.   
-i’m not trying to get you in trouble kamet

~Well I did get in trouble, and you could have at least warned me. 

-i’m so sorry i thought maybe you would do your own research????

 

He doesn’t want to keep talking to Gen now. He knows he probably shouldn’t have texted, especially not so angrily. That’s not how he does things. That’s not how he should do things. He tries to focus again on his party planning, on the few last details he needs to slot into place, but his phone keeps buzzing in his pocket, and his eyes keep burning. 

 

-was nahuseresh very mad?  
-are you hurt?  
-kamet, please. 

~I’m fine. I’m sorry for overreacting. 

-so am i.   
-do you wanna grab afternoon tea with me? 

~Sure. Where am I supposed to get the time for that? 

-Don’t you have the weekends off?

~Theoretically. 

-finish whatever you’re doing, and then come out with me. i wanna make this up to you. 

~I told you that I overreacted. You have nothing to make up. 

-kameeettttttttttttt

~Gen. 

-pllleeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssssssssseeeeeeeeeeee

~Don’t be a child.

-kammeettttt ppllleeasee hang outttt witthhh meeeeeeeeeeee

~Gods sake. 

-:( :( :( :( :( :( :( :(   
-<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 

~Stop it. I’ll come out in an hour. I’ll meet you at the park. 

-:D :D :D :D :D :D

 

-

 

“I thought you said you wanted to make it up to me,” Kamet says grumpily, “this doesn’t really feel like being made up with.” 

“Well I thought you said there was nothing to make up,” Gen retorts happily, “it’ll do you good to get out, plus, you can tell Nahuseresh, with all honesty, that you were simply making sure you approved of Dite’s music.” 

“I could do that online,” Kamet snaps, “I didn’t need to come out to a bloody club.” 

“I think this would be classed as a bar,” Gen says thoughtfully, “drinks are on me.” 

Despite himself, Kamet does follow Gen into the bar, does follow him to a small table by the half raised stage near the front of the room, does let Gen order him a drink. 

“He has a posh website,” Kamet grumbles after their drinks arrive, and the band is slowly starting to be set up on the stage, “why is he playing in such a … local bar?” 

“He’s friends with the owners,” Gen replies easily, shrugs his shoulders and takes a swig from his beer bottle, “and he does both… ah… comedic music and classical music, so this sort of place suits him as well.” 

“Speaking of,” Kamet says, puts his gin and tonic back down on the table with a clink, “how do you know so much about what Irene Attolia likes?” 

“We’re friends,” Gen says promptly, takes another swig, “we’ve known each other a long time.” 

“Friends,” Kamet repeats blankly, “with the owner of… well, basically this entire place?” 

“Uh-huh,” Gen says, “she’s lots of fun once you get past the whole she could probably ruin your entire life, thing.” 

“I see,” Kamet says, “and you didn’t think this was something worth mentioning earlier?” 

“Why would I?” Gen replies. 

“I don’t know,” Kamet scoffs, takes an over large sip from his drink, “because you’re working for the Mede corporation? Despite the fact that there’s obvious plans for a Mede Attolia merger, we’re still officially rivals in business. You don’t find that awkward?” 

“No,” Gen smiles, “although she was pretty fucking mad at me when I first started working there.” 

“Huh,” Kamet says, “so is your friendship with Irene the reason why you know Costis?” 

“Well,” Gen says, then shrugs, “no,” he says, “my fiance is why I know Costis. It’s just a coincidence that Irene is acquainted with him.” 

“It is a small town, I suppose,” Kamet says, “most people must know each other. I’m not used to it yet.” 

“I suppose you’re a fan of the anonymity of larger cities?” Gen asks, and Kamet shrugs. “I am too,” Gen says after a moment, “although you must think this place tiny, my hometown was much smaller. I couldn’t leave the house without running into a dozen different people I knew, all who either wanted to chat or yell at me. Here, very few people know me.” 

“Yet you seem to know of everyone,” Kamet points out, and now Gen shrugs. 

“I people watch a lot,” he says, “I don’t like people knowing who I am, but I like knowing who they are. Just like you.” 

Kamet shrugs again. The musicians take the stage. Dite sings, a very, very rude song about a man who thinks he can win the heart of a queen. Gen cheers and hoots loudly from their small table, Dite pulls the finger at him. 

 

-

 

Nahuseresh doesn’t seem to notice when he gets in. Not late, but later than he usually stays out. He’d left Nahuseresh busy with a gaggle of hired girls, and had come back to find a few more than he’d hired. He would have to sort out the bills when they’d finished, hopefully Nahuseresh would have the wisdom to send them to Kamet rather than just sending them away. He didn’t want to receive anymore angry emails from escort companies. 

This is especially good, Nahuseresh not noticing, because Kamet is just on the verge of tipsy. He ought to have known better, really, he doesn’t even drink at formal occasions, he’s always too busy making sure things are running smoothly, that Nahuseresh has a drink, that he servers look good. Probably the last time he had a drink was months ago when Nahuseresh first got word he was being promoted into the office here in Attolia, and they had celebrated with fine spirits to make up for the fact that neither of them actually wanted to go. 

He doesn’t want Nahuseresh to know he’s been drinking. 

 

-

 

The next day was overwhelmingly bright, bright sun poking into a corners of the office, pushing its way through the gaps in the blinds. Most people are in a good mood to match the sunniness of the day, it’s been a long, and quite wet spring, and everyone in town appears to be very pleased at the warmth of the sun. Which is why it’s a surprise when he walks into the Conspiracy Room, takes his sunglasses off, and sees Costis looking grumpier than Kamet thought possible.


	8. Lunch for two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((yes i am still writing this i'm sorry i'm so slow xxx))

Costis is standing a little way back from the counter, having a very tense looking conversation in a low voice with a man who somehow looks like an older and grumpier version of Costis, while also looking like someone Kamet thinks he ought to know. He wonders if this is Costis’ father, or some relation. He only has time to wonder this much by the time that Costis looks up and sees him. Usually Costis would have already been smiling at him from the moment Kamet entered the cafe, but today he’s made it all the way up to the till before he was noticed. It’s a little off putting. 

 

“We’ll discuss this later,” the man says to Costis, glances at Kamet, rolls his eyes - rolls his fucking eyes - and disappears in the direction of the kitchen. 

 

“Sorry about that,” Costis says. He’s put on his ‘I’m happy to see you’ face, but it doesn’t fit well over his irritation. “What can I get you today, Kamet?” 

 

“Your peach slice,” Kamet says, tries not to so obviously be attempting to decipher what’s going on with Costis’ expression, “and the usual drink. Also a mini chilli chocolate for me. Please.” 

 

“Mm,” Costis says, sounds perfectly happy, “I love our chilli chocolate, good choice.” 

 

“Has something happened?” Kamet asks before he can help himself, “You don’t seem happy.” 

 

Costis all but gapes at him. “I’m perfectly happy,” he says, “especially since you’re here.” 

 

Kamet wishes he wouldn’t say things like that. Especially not with such an earnest expression. 

 

“Fine,” Kamet says, “if you say so.” 

 

He shouldn’t be attempting to look into other people’s private affairs anyway. It wasn’t his business, and it would only lead to trouble and over familiarity. He didn’t need that. He doesn’t bother waiting for Costis to tell him his order would be ready in 5 minutes, just goes over to to the waiting counter, sits down on a stool, and pulls his phone out to make sure his payments to the escort companies had been received. 

 

“Kamet,” Costis says, much too close much too quickly. A man that big shouldn’t be able to move so stealthily or swiftly. “Now you’re the one who doesn’t seem happy.” 

 

“Well I’m perfectly happy,” Kamet says stiffly, “I’m sure I’m as happy as you are.” 

 

Costis perches on the stool next to him. Kamet wonders if he’d bothered to even deliver his order to the kitchen, or if the entire kitchen/waitstaff order were just going to wait for Costis to have his personal chat. 

 

“So,” Costis says, “not very happy, then?” 

 

Kamet doesn’t bother replying, just makes a ‘tsk’ sound between his teeth, and scrolls through a few more bill receipts. Nahuseresh spends far too much money. Between his frivolity, and his wife’s chaotic spending, it was really a wonder he makes more money than he spends. Well. Not really a wonder. He’s paid much too much. 

 

“Nothing much has happened,” Costis continues when it becomes clear that Kamet isn’t going to expand on his disdainful noise, “I was just informed of a - uh - development in my workplace that I’m not pleased about. A new addition to our staff who I happen to dislike. So, I’m not very happy about that.” 

 

Kamet wants to say he didn’t ask for Costis’ bloody sob story, but, he kind of did, so now he has to deal with hearing it. 

 

“People have to work with idiots constantly,” he replies, “you should get better at controlling your distaste at it.” 

 

“I should,” Costis agrees, “you are right, I’ve never been very good at concealing any of my feelings though. In fact, our new worker likes to tell me that I am an open book.” 

 

Kamet snorts a little, then covers his mouth. “Well hate me too if you want,” he says, “but that is my experience of your expressions.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Costis says, he’s leaning sideways so he can bump shoulders with Kamet, “that you didn’t enjoy what you read today.” 

 

“What?” Kamet asks.

 

“Uh,” Costis says, grins a little awkwardly, “I mean, if I’m an open book, and you can read me like one, and my expression wasn’t-” 

 

“Oh,” Kamet interrupts. “Right. Of course.” 

 

They’re silent for a moment then. Kamet closes his finances app. 

 

“So,” Costis says again, “why aren’t you happy?” 

 

“Because you’re bugging me,” Kamet replies swiftly, and receives another bump of shoulders, as if he’d said something purposefully entertaining. 

 

“I’m sorry for that too, then,” Costis says, “but really, what is wrong?” 

 

Kamet pauses here to consider. His face is still bruised, but it barely hurts. He’d escaped the last bout of Nahuseresh’s wrath untouched. The party was all set to turn out perfectly. He had had an actually enjoyable night at the bar listening to music and to Gen’s prattle. All in all, he was feeling happier than he usually did. Truthfully, not that he approved much of truthfulness, he was currently irritated because Costis wasn’t his usual smiling self. 

 

“Like I said,” Kamet says, flicks a small smile in Costis’ direction, “I’m perfectly happy.” 

 

Costis sits there a moment longer, and then he nods, “So, so, so,” he says, “I’ll go make sure your order is on it’s way.” He stands up, but before he leaves, he says, “If your unhappiness is related to - to the - “ he lowers his voice, “-bruising on your face. I want you to know that I will always be here to listen if you need to talk. To help.” 

 

Kamet stares at him. Costis nods. Turns. Leaves. 

 

Kamet wonders if there is something in the air of Attolia that’s poisoning him slowly, that’s making him feel like spilling his secrets. Making him feel like opening up. First with Gen, now with Costis? It was altogether too much, too idiotic. Nahuseresh had been his only steady companion for most of his life now. He didn’t need more. He didn’t even want more. 

 

He wishes Costis would not so obviously glance at his face, as if he’s checking to see where the concealer started, where the bruises started. He wishes Costis was not so obvious. 

 

“Here’s your order,” Costis announces, box in hand, Nahuseresh’s coffee balanced on top, Kamet’s tiny little hot chocolate in his other hand. Or rather, it was just a little hot chocolate, it only looked tiny in Costis’ hand. “I added extra spice to the chocolate, I thought you might like it that way. Let me know?” 

 

“I will,” Kamet assures him, takes the food and drink from him, “I appreciate the thought.” 

 

“I appreciate that you appreciate it,” Costis replies cheerfully, and Kamet raises his eyebrows at him, but smiles anyway. 

 

“Costis,” he says, and Costis’ cheerful expression swiftly changes into a full blown smile. 

 

“Kamet?” 

 

“This saturday,” Kamet says, can feel the palm of his hand sweating against the warmth of the cup in his hand, “at the uh - event. I would prefer it if you wouldn’t speak to me. Or rather,” he hastens to add, “feel free to speak to me about the catering, or other issues related to the task at hand, but I have to ask you not to speak to me so familiarly.” 

 

He doesn’t look at Costis’ face while saying this, thinks that Costis’ grin will almost certainly have been replaced with an equal and opposite expression. 

 

“I see,” Costis say, he doesn’t sound very shocked about this, “I wouldn’t want to get in your way,” he adds, “so you don’t need to worry about it.” He turns to leave. Kamet lets his mouth move again without considering what he’s saying. 

 

“Costis,” he says, again, a little louder, a little rougher. Costis turns around. 

 

“Kamet?” 

 

“Apart from this saturday,” Kamet says, in far too much of a rush to befit him. Drops his voice back down low so that no one can overhear, “I do wish you would - would keep talking to me.” 

 

That is as much as he can dare say. 

 

Costis looks pleased. 

 

“I will,” he says, “obviously. You and I are friends, yes?” 

 

Costis is an idiot. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

Kamet is also an idiot. 

  
  


-

 

Nahuseresh is in a phone meeting when Kamet gets back to the office. A very loud phone meeting. A politely loud one, where, even though everyone’s voices are raised and they’re all attempting to butt into each other’s sentences, they preface it with, ‘excuse me’’s, and, ‘sir/ma’am’’s. Nahuseresh mutes his microphone when Kamet comes in. 

 

“Thank fuck,” he snaps at Kamet, motions him over, “if I have to listen to these idiots talk for much longer without my afternoon tea I will kill at least 3 of them. What took you so long?” 

 

“I was going over the menu for Saturday,” Kamet replies smoothly, knows there’s no point in pointing out that he hadn’t, in fact, taken any longer than usual. A lie was better than telling Nahuseresh he was wrong. “I want everything to be perfect for you, sir.” 

 

“Ah,” Nahuseresh says, downs what appears to be half the coffee in one go, “how sweet of you. Tell me, all this time you spend at the Conspiracy Room,” he pauses here to take a mouthful of his Peach slice, and Kamet takes this small amount of time to worry that Nahuseresh knows about Costis’ friendliness, about Kamet’s own discretions towards Costis’ friendliness. “What do the staff there have to say about Irene?” Nahuseresh continues, mouth full, “Do they talk about her as if she has much of a hand in the day to day running? I assume that she prefers spending her time in her little bakery than in her offices.” 

 

“Ah,” Kamet says, “no, they don’t talk very much. Or, at least, not to me. I get the impression that they all seem to like, or respect her, but it is only that, an impression.” 

 

“Pity,” Nahuseresh says, “never mind. I’m looking forward to getting to make my own impression of her on Saturday, or rather, even more looking forward to leaving my impression on her. You know, Kamet,” he says, shoots Kamet a greasy grin, “I have heard it said that she is the most gorgeous woman this side of Medea.” 

 

“I have also heard that,” Kamet admits, considers reminding Nahuseresh that he’s meant to be on a call right now. 

 

“Seeing as we are from Medea, however,” Nahuseresh continues, “I don’t expect to be blown away by her beauty. However,” he says, his grin is getting greasier, “I fully expect her to be blown away by mine. It isn’t idle gossip over my looks, such as it is over hers.” 

 

“No, sir.” Kamet agrees, “Ah, sir, Mr. Sessetus just asked your opinion on the growth of market in our eastern branches.” 

 

-

 

~I have an hour free this evening while Nahuseresh goes to a company dinner. I don’t suppose you’d like to go out for some Italian food to talk about books?

 

-ah kamet you twist me inside out. i would love to go out for italian food and books and you tonight, but i am otherwise engaged. maybe next time? 

 

~Of course. It was an off chance invitation. I wasn’t expecting you to be free at such short notice. 

 

-ordinarily i would be, let’s be honest here, kamet. 

 

~You come across as a rather popular person, that doesn’t seem very obvious to me at all. 

 

-what has you in such low spirits this evening? 

 

~Why are people asking me this? Am I exuding some sort of miserable odor or something? 

 

-who else is asking? and no, i simply ask because i’m omniscient. 

 

~Please. 

 

-it was an educated guess. and not a wrong one. 

 

~So maybe I’m in a bad mood. 

 

-why? and who pointed it out earlier? your keeper nastyresh? 

 

~I would thank you not to call him that. 

 

-sorry i meant nahosieryesh 

 

~Gen. 

 

-what’s wrong? 

 

~It was Costis who asked me that earlier. 

 

-ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

 

~What is that supposed to mean? 

 

-ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh? 

 

~Yes. What? 

 

-no nothing. just that costis is very sensitive to people feeling sad. 

 

~He was the one feeling sad. 

 

-oh indeed? is this why you’re sad then? 

 

~No. God. Why must you take everything and twist it? 

 

-because it’s entertaining. but i wasn’t really twisting anything just then. why was our dear costis sad? 

 

~He’s not ours, nor is he dear. He doesn’t like a new co-worker. 

 

-ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

 

~You know, I’m quite glad I’m not spending time with you tonight. You’re irritating enough over text. 

 

-oh kamet you wound me so. 

-so is costis feeling sad why you’re sad?

-and if so, why? 

 

~I have to go. Have fun with your prior engagement. 

 

-kisses and hugs. 

 

-

 

“You’re here early,” Costis says. It’s true. It’s only just 12, afternoon tea is still some hours away. 

 

“Well,” Kamet says, tries not to bluster, it isn’t becoming, “I’m on my lunch break,” he says to the counter, “and I thought I might try out the savory food you have to offer here.” 

 

“Ha,” Costis says, he’s smiling altogether too much, “so you do have a lunch break.” 

 

“Of course I do,” Kamet says, snaps, really. “And I’m choosing to spend it here. I’ll have the mini quiche and the pumpkin cream soup, thank you.” 

 

“Mhm,” Costis says, “would you like a drink with that?” 

 

“Just water,” Kamet says, fiddles with his card -his card, not Nahuseresh’s card. 

 

“Alright,” Costis says, “how about some company?” 

 

“Excuse me?” Kamet asks, looks up to see Costis looking down at him with an odd expression. 

 

“It’s also my lunch break,” Costis explains, “very soon. If you’re not too busy, I thought I might sit down with you. Unless of course, you want your food to go?” 

 

“Oh no,” Kamet says, kicks himself for not clarifying earlier, “I’m eating here.” 

 

“So?” Costis asks. 

 

“I’m not too busy,” Kamet says vaguely, “I wouldn’t object.” 

 

“How kind of you,” Costis grins, “in that case,” he continues, “would you like to eat in the back courtyard rather than inside? It’s a much nicer atmosphere I think.” 

 

“It’s not open to the public, though-” Kamet begins, and Costis shrugs. 

 

“I’m on my break, and I’m allowed to have friends for lunch,” he says, “and we’ve agreed we’re friends, so.” 

 

“So,” Kamet agrees. 

 

“You remember how to get out there?” Costis asks. 

 

“I do,” Kamet nods, of course he does, does Costis think him an infant? 

 

“I’ll bring your food out soon, then,” Costis says, smiles.  


	9. I don’t celebrate alone, you ass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... this was planned to be a longer chapter but I burnt every single one of my fingertips the other day and writing? Is painful. I have blistertips.

Kamet manages to get a little, just a little, lost on the way out to the courtyard. He steps into what turns out to be the employee bathrooms first, rather than taking the door in the corridor leading to outside. Is glad no one is around to see his mistake. He can’t decide if he wants to tell Costis about it, because, Costis will be amused, and Kamet thinks he likes seeing Costis amused, but also, it would be embarrassing. 

 

He chooses a small table near the corner of the courtyard, by a small dwarf orange tree in a ornamental looking pot, and waits. It takes Costis a bit longer than his usual five minutes, but, Kamet supposes, he did have to get two lunches, and finish his shift. He takes this time, not to check accounts and emails like he ought to, but to worry about whether or not he was being an idiot. By the time Costis appears, a tray of food balanced easily on one hand and a couple of drinks held in his other (ridiculously large) hand, he’s decided that, yes, he is being an idiot, but, he doesn’t want to care right now. 

 

“So,” Costis says cheerfully as he lays out the spread, putting Kamet’s meal down carefully in front of him first, as well as a spicy chai that Kamet had most certainly not ordered, “what brings you here on your lunch break?” 

 

“Like I said,” Kamet says, eying up the chai with some consternation, “I thought I ought to try the savoury food here.” 

 

“Mhm?” Costis prompts, sits opposite Kamet, “I suppose it would be too much to ask that you were here to see me.” 

 

Kamet knows that gaping is unsightly. He does it anyway. Then changes the subject. “I didn’t order a chai,” he points out, tapping the side of the mug Costis had put in front of him. 

 

“Oh, I know,” Costis says, “I did. Don’t worry, it’s paid for.” 

 

“Yes, but,” Kamet blusters, “I didn’t ask for it.” 

 

“Do you not want it?” Costis asks, busies himself with unpeeling the top of his sandwich so he can peer inside. 

 

Kamet does not think this questions really deserves to be answered. He harrumphs, picks his soup spoon up. 

 

“Something in your sandwich you don’t like?” he asks. 

 

“Oh,” Costis says, puts the bread back down and picks the sandwich up properly, “no, one of my friends in the kitchen likes to play tricks on me occasionally by putting peppers in. Which is fine, but I like to have some forewarning before my mouth starts sweating.” 

 

“That sounds like… some friend,” Kamet mumbles, takes a quick sip of his soup, which is utterly delightful, even if it wasn’t actually what he came here for. 

 

“Oh,” Costis grins, shrugs, “we’ve been friends for quite a long time now, it’s all very friendly. I get him back.” 

 

Kamet allows himself to smile. “So,” he says, “it’s not the new coworker you don’t like, then?” 

 

Costis scoffs around his sandwich, takes a bite, chews, swallows, then replies. “No,” he says, “no. Aris, though irritating, is a true friend, while  _ this _ new man is… well. He’s a menace.” 

 

“Sounds exciting,” Kamet says, “what menacing things does he do?” 

 

“Ah,” Costis says, shrugs, “I think it’ll sound… silly if I try and explain it.” 

 

“You tell me your silly thing,” Kamet offers, “and I’ll tell you something silly about me.” 

 

Costis looks like Kamet had just pulled a holiday out of his ass. 

 

“Well,” Costis says, puts his sandwich down, “he’s… petulant. He has certain… connections to management, and so he’s been put in a high managing role and he, though he’s been here less than a week, has all these…  _ ideas _ about all the things we’re doing wrong here, and how we ought to be doing it and… ugh. He’s just coming in and trying to tell everyone how to do their jobs despite the fact - well. Alright, so he’s not an entirely new-newcomer. He worked here a few years back, as a dish hand, and he was the worst dish hand we have ever had. He purposely broke dishes, I swear. As you might imagine, he was fired, but he made such a fuss about it it got taken all the way up to management, Attolia herself ended up personally firing him. So, how he’s back? It boggles the mind.” 

 

Kamet finds that he’s gaping a little again. But in a very amused way. He snorts, a little indelicately, clears his throat. 

 

“That didn’t sound very silly,” he says, “I think those are all very good reasons for disliking him.” 

 

“Well,” Costis sighs, “yes, probably, it’s just - he has also been… personally re-hired by Attolia, so… I trust her judgement, I just don’t see how her judgement is steady in this particular case.” 

 

“Well,” Kamet says, tries to ignore Nahuseresh’s very loud voice in his head which is saying that he’s sure Attolia was simply swayed by flattery or some shit as she’s a woman, blah, blah, blah, “maybe you trust too blindly.” 

 

Costis eyes him up. “I’ve been an employee of Attolia, under various roles, for almost a decade now,” he says, “and this is the first instance she has ever given me to mistrust. I think if I let my trust of her be swayed by this one thing, I would be a very shallow person indeed.” 

 

Kamet nods. Tries the quiche. 

 

“So,” Costis says, “your silly thing?” 

 

“Your thing wasn’t actually very silly,” Kamet points out, “so-” 

 

“Uh-uh,” Costis snorts, “no, you’re not getting out of this. Come on, then, spill something.” 

 

Kamet considers. His mind has gone stupidly blank. He doesn’t know what to say. He squints over Costis’ shoulder, staring at the opposite end of the courtyard as if he could find some inspiration over there. 

 

“I’m uh,” he says, “very short sighted, actually. I need glasses.” 

 

“Huh,” Costis says, “well, that’s not very silly, except for the fact that you’re telling me this and I’ve never seen you wearing glasses.” 

 

“Well,” Kamet says, “I don’t have any.” 

 

“Huh,” Costis says again, “alright, well that is silly. Why the hell don’t you have any? You work for one of the largest businesses in the country, you have to have enough money to get some fancy enough to suit your tastes.” 

 

Kamet coughs over his quiche, reaches for the chai and takes a steadying drink from it. 

 

“I don’t,” he says, “I - I had a lot of debt to repay. I don’t keep the majority of my salary, and what I do - it’s not enough to spend on something so… frivolous. Especially not when the healthcare plan with the business ought to pay for them.” 

 

He shouldn’t have said that last part. Actually, he shouldn’t have said any of those parts. 

 

“That sounds like a good healthcare plan,” Costis says, “so why haven’t they bought them for you yet?” 

 

“It’s,” Kamet mumbles, takes another sip of chai, “complicated.” 

 

Costis looks like he is going to prod. Miraculously, instead, he narrows his eyes and takes a large gulp of his black coffee instead, “Ok,” he says. 

 

“Hey,” Kamet says, “you’re very embroiled in the Attolia business, yes? What do you know about the statue in the Queen’s Garden? That’s an Attolian relic, isn’t it?” 

 

“Ha,” Costis says, grins at Kamet, “it is indeed. It’s a very old story to go with the statue though.” 

 

“I happen to be a fan of old stories,” Kamet says, “would you be so kind as to tell it to me?” 

 

“I’m-” Costis begins slowly, “-not much of a storyteller, but I will do my best.” 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

-

 

When Kamet gets back to the office, it’s to find Nahuseresh shut up in a private meeting room. The head secretary notices as Kamet comes in, beckons him over. 

 

“Who is Nahuseresh meeting with?” Kamet asks, “There was no one booked in until this afternoon, and certainly not in that meeting room.” 

 

“Irene Attolia,” the secretary whispers to him, as if there are people waiting close by eager to overhear, “called a meeting to discuss his merger suggestion in more detail before the big party. She’s in there, in person!” 

 

Kamet nods. He’s vaguely disgruntled that Nahuseresh had not called him as soon as Attolia had arrived, had not had him fetched to be present. He would have hated being interrupted in his lunch with Costis, this was true, but he also hated being left out when being left out was the step before being unnecessary. 

He considers probing the secretary for more information, but he doesn’t want to appear anymore out of the loop than he already looks, so he nods curtly, and disappears off to his desk to do all the work he should have been looking over during lunch instead of socialising with someone who’s not even important to his work or this merger. 

 

Nahuseresh doesn’t reappear until it’s almost time for Kamet to leave again, and when he does, he looks triumphant and very smug with a beautiful woman on his arm. 

 

“Ah, Kamet!” he says cheerfully, squeezes the woman’s arm, “You have returned at last, here I thought I would have to send out a search party for you!” 

 

Kamet laughs politely. 

 

“It won’t be necessary to fetch my afternoon tea, today,” Nahuseresh continues, turns to smile sweetly at the woman, “Irene is taking me there today, treating me to first class service.” 

 

“How delightful,” Kamet says carefully, smiles at Irene Attolia, “I’m glad.” 

 

“If you would go through the meeting minutes with the team,” Nahuseresh directs, nodding in the direction of the small smattering of Mede office worker coming out of the meeting room interspersed with what looks like Attolia’s main managers, “and Irene’s lovely men to finish the organisation.” 

 

“Yes sir,” Kamet says, nods, gathers up his things and directs the group to another meeting room entirely to begin sorting out the fluff of the meeting he hadn’t even attended. 

 

-

 

It takes him a full five minutes to realise that he has seen the head of Attolia’s managers before. He is sitting at the other end of the meeting table to Kamet, and so he doesn’t get a good look at him until he gets up to point out some detail in the minutes Kamet has been handed. It’s the man from the cafe, the one Kamet had idly wondered if he was Costis’ father. Maybe he was Costis’ father. That would explain why he would bother going into the cafe when he was so high up the business food chain. 

 

-

 

Nahuseresh goes straight from afternoon tea with Attolia to drinks with work friends, to the penthouse, which means that Kamet does not see him again until he gets home just past nine that night. 

 

“Kamet!” Nahuseresh calls from the second lounge, “Bring me the remchik, will you?” 

 

“Yes sir,” Kamet calls back, detours to the kitchen to grab the spirit and a glass, and then hurries to join Nahuseresh. 

 

“Where’s your glass?” Nahuseresh asks loudly as Kamet sets the bottle and glass down, “I don’t celebrate alone, you ass.” 

 

“Yes sir,” Kamet replies, smiles, leaves, comes back with a glass for himself. 

 

Nahuseresh pours, over fills the glasses. 

 

“She was truly quite beautiful, wasn’t she?” Nahuseresh asks as he hands one of the glasses to Kamet. 

 

“She was,” Kamet admits. 

 

“I dare say she was even more beautiful than some of the cats in Medea,” Nahuseresh offers, quaffs back his glass of remchik and quickly refills his glass, motions at Kamet to drink his as well. “I can just imagine my wife’s jealousy.” 

 

“Indeed,” Kamet mumbles, swallows the drink down bitterly, accepts the refill. 

 

“The good thing about beautiful women,” Nahuseresh says, sounding worldly wise as he swirls the liquid in his glass, “is that they crave assurance from equally beautiful people. She saw me, saw how attractive I was, and instantly needed my good will.” 

 

“Ah,” Kamet says. 

 

“Women like that are so easily led,” Nahuseresh snorts, swallows down his second glass, “tell them they are more beautiful than the moon and they are more than willing to get down on their knees for you.” 

 

“Yes,” Kamet says, pours Nahuseresh’s next glass. 

 

“I doubt she even understood half of what we were saying in that meeting, she kept looking to her manager, that dull looking one, Teleus? And asking him to make a note of things, obviously so he could explain them to her in smaller words later. At afternoon tea I made sure to only discuss things she was obviously interested in, her cafe, of course, and her jewellery. She was much more effusive, she has a truly lovely laugh.” 

 

“You are very charming,” Kamet murmurs, watches as Nahuseresh downs his remchik, holds his glass out for another. 

 

“The merger will go through this saturday,” Nahuseresh says firmly, “she has all but said so. Make sure there is champagne set aside for celebration after it is announced.” 

 

“Yes, sir,” Kamet says, makes a mental note of it. 

 

“And start drafting a letter of interest to Erondite, would you? Best to slip in early. We’ll send him a letter after the party, outlining our regret that we could not offer him first place, but how we want him to take over Attolia’s role-” 

 

“Yes sir,” Kamet says, doesn’t wince. 

 

“Drink your remchik, Kamet,” Nahuseresh adds sharply, “you’re too tense, otherwise.” 

 

“Yes sir,” Kamet says, gulps down his second glass as Nahuseresh shots his fourth glass. 

 

“It’s a weekday,” Nahuseresh says, “so I won’t call the rent girls tonight.” 

 

“No sir,” Kamet says. 

 

“Have another glass, Kamet,” Nahuseresh says. 

 

-

 

Kamet wakes early on Wednesday. Arranges breakfast for Nahuseresh. Goes to work early. He’s one of the first people in the building. It’s not until he’s been there for a full hour does someone join him in the office. 

 

He texts Gen. 

 

~Feel like getting breakfast before work? 

 

Gen texts back so quickly Kamet feels like he almost gets whiplash. 

 

-Your shout

 

~I suppose. 

 

-theres a nice pancake place round thecorner from the office. 

 

~Porcine pancakes???

 

-gross name great food

 

~Ok. Meet you there at half past? 

 

-looking forward to it ;) ;) ;0

 

~Why the winky faces. 

 

-i’m excited! :-* ;-* 

 

-

 

Kamet gets there five minutes early to find that Gen is already there. He’s wearing a bright yellow hoodie and ridiculously floral patterned trousers. He is not dressed for the office. 

 

“Oh,” he says as he approaches Gen who’s grinning widely, “Is there a - uh - dress up day at the office? Clown day?” 

 

“Ha-fucking-ha,” Gen says happily, “hello to you, too.” 

 

“Seriously,” Kamet says, “this is quite an exuberant outfit for a day at the office.” 

 

“I quit,” Gen says casually, “shall we go inside?” 

 

“You what?” Kamet sputters, Gen is already walking inside, so he just follows, “Why?” 

 

“I just think I’m going in a different direction to the company,” Gen says, shrugs, pauses at the counter. The lady behind it nods at a table and Gen leads them over to it, “also, don’t take this personally, my dear, but I sort of think that Nahuseresh is a bastard.” 

 

Kamet wonders if he’s supposed to be the sort of loyal that just walks out of situations like this. Apparently he isn’t, because he sits down opposite Gen, keeps staring at him. 

 

“I don’t like how he treats you,” Gen says, he’s still speaking so casually, like he’s saying easy things. 

 

“You have no idea how he treats me,” Kamet retorts. 

 

Gen picks up the menu in front of him. “I do,” he says, flips a page, “but I know you won’t just quit, will you?” 

 

“Why would I?” Kamet bites back, “I’m paid well. I’m well respected in my field. Give me a few more years and I won’t just be a personal assistant, I’ll have my own.” 

 

“Ok,” Gen says, “I recommend the blueberry pancakes. Just, remember that you have my number.” 

 

“I can’t forget,” Kamet grumbles, “you send me terrible music lyrics.” 

 

-


	10. Spicy and very Dirty

  
  


For some reason, just knowing that Gen isn’t in the building somewhere telling outrageous stories and being sarcastic makes work viciously boring, and almost, a little sad. This is very irritating, because he’s only just met Gen, really, and he didn’t spend much time with Gen at work at all, so honestly? Gen having quit affects him in no way whatsoever. 

 

Except it does. Even if it makes no sense. It had been nice to have someone he could think of as a friend in the building. 

 

Kamet is a professional, so his downturned mood does not hurt his work performance at all, but apparently his face is hurting Nahuseresh’s mood. 

 

“Good fucking gods,” Nahuseresh snaps after Kamet briefs him on a meeting he’s supposed to be going to in the next half hour. “Did a book character die or something? You look like a toddler on the verge of a breakdown.” 

 

This is surprising to hear. 

 

“Sorry,” Kamet says, “I didn’t realise - “

 

“You’re bringing the mood of the whole office down,” Nahuseresh tells him, “if you’re hungover, go home. I don’t need you here today if you’re going to be frowning the whole time.” 

 

Ordinarily, Kamet would force himself to smile sweetly here. He wasn’t really hungover, and he would assure Nahuseresh that he wasn’t at all, and that he was awfully sorry his face had made Nahuseresh upset, and that he would fix it. And then he would go about his day smiling constantly and consciously. 

 

Maybe he is being an idiot today, or over emotional, or something similar, but he has no desire and no motivation to stay and fake a smile when he is being given the option to take the day off. 

 

Yes, this was a dismissal. Yes, it stung hearing that he wasn't needed. Yes, it scared him not being needed. Yes, he wanted to get out of here. 

 

“Yes sir,” Kamet says, lifts his hand subtly to his head as if to touch at his nonexistent headache, “thank you, sir,” he says, “I’ll work from home. What would you like me to do about your afternoon tea?” 

 

Nahuseresh looks positively smug. 

 

“I will be eating with Irene,” he says, smiles smugly at Kamet, “I invited her and she accepted. A little needy, I think.” 

 

“Sir,” Kamet nods, “call me if you need anything.” 

 

“Oh,” Nahuseresh waves his hand, “I will.” 

 

-

 

Kamet had intended to go home. He had. He is not in the habit of saying he will be in one place and then going elsewhere, but, it is not as if Nahuseresh will find out. 

 

-

 

Costis looks surprised when he walks into The Conspiracy Room. Kamet supposes this is fair seeing as it is neither lunch time or afternoon time, and Kamet doesn’t have a habit of being here at any other time. Not that he really has been here for long enough to call anything here a habit, which is why he feels as surprised about him being here as Costis looks. 

 

He doesn’t get to address this surprise immediately, because it is morning tea time, and the cafe is in the middle of a rush, so Costis is actually working, and Kamet has to wait in line. 

 

“You’re here very early,” Costis says in greeting once Kamet finally reaches the front of the line, “what can I get you?” 

 

Kamet considers asking for what he really wants. 

 

“Chai,” he says instead, “spicy and very dirty.” 

 

Costis grins at him, far too open, “I can do that. Anything else?” 

 

Kamet considers. He’s not hungry, he’s still fill of Porcine’s pancakes. 

 

“When do you go on break?” 

 

If Costis had looked surprised before, now he looks positively shocked. Kamet, if he feels ashamed of his own open expression earlier today, can always be comforted by the fact that he has, and never will be, as easy to read as Costis. 

 

“I can get off now,” Costis says, says this just as Phresine sweeps her way out of the kitchen. 

 

“He can’t,” she chips in sternly, “we have too many customers.” 

 

Costis frowns, but nods. “She’s right,” he says seriously to Kamet, “sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I can take my break in about half an hour.” 

 

“Ok,” Kamet says, “I’ll still be here.” 

 

“Ok,” Costis says, continues to look all sorts of surprised, “your chai will be ready in five minutes. And your company in thirty.” 

 

“Thanks,” Kamet says, pays, goes to sit at a small table near the corner with large lilies in engraved pots. 

 

-

 

Phresine brings him his chai, and a jug of lemon and mint water, and a small plate of ‘complimentary’ ginger biscuits. 

 

Kamet tries not to be too huge of a liar by pulling out his work phone to sort through and reply to emails, finalise schedules, and go over some reports. 

 

He’s finished his chai by the time the cafe begins to clear out again, and he’s started to feel a little awkward about taking up space by the time Costis makes his way over. 

 

He has two mugs in hand. 

 

“I bought you a top up,” Costis announces as he reaches Kamet, puts the chai down by Kamet’s empty mug, (which he had been holding onto every time Phresine or Illea walked past to make it appear as if he wasn’t just sitting here doing nothing). 

 

“You didn’t need to do that,”  Kamet says, wraps his hands around the new mug anyway as Costis sits down opposite him and takes a large gulp from his own mug. 

 

“I’m well aware,” Costis says from behind his mug, “what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” 

 

“Hm,” Kamet says, “I won’t be coming for Nahuseresh’s afternoon tea today, I thought I ought - I wouldn’t want to confuse you by not coming at all.” 

 

“How very kind and thoughtful of you,” Costis smiles at him, “I appreciate it.” 

 

Kamet isn’t entirely sure what he’s supposed to say next, so he takes a sup of his new chai. 

 

“Are you...alright?” Costis asks then, which is a little irritating. 

 

“Yes,” Kamet says, “I am perfectly fine.” 

 

“You’re not…” Costis begins quietly, “hurt?” 

 

“No,” Kamet snaps. Thinks very hard about not thinking about the still fading greens of the last edges of the bruise on his face. “I just wanted to see you,” he says, then frowns at himself for saying it. 

 

“I’m flattered,” Costis says, not that he needs to, because his face is all but yelling it. 

 

“How is your terrible coworker situation going?” Kamet asks, “Still terrible?” 

 

“Oh gods,” Costis groans, allows himself to be distracted, “he is… he is the worst. The worst, I tell you. He has all these ideas. First of all, he thinks we ought to cut the staff down, and I mean - how dare he? Secondly, he keeps suggesting we start making some sort of terrible sounding dessert from his home town that his grandad or something made. This isn’t just some family run business, it’s a professional and highly qualified eatery. We make good food-” 

 

-

 

He feels better by the time he gets home. He’s still a bit bitter that Gen has just up and quite with no warning, but Costis succeeded in making him actually laugh, so. He feels better. 

 

He calls in to check on the office, works his way through screeds of paperwork, goes over the finances for the party on saturday one more time, and rearranges the maid’s schedules. 

 

By the time Nahuseresh gets back home, he feels more relaxed than he has for a while, which is odd seeing as he’d felt so unsettlingly upset this morning.  Of course, because his life is not a fairy tale, Nahuseresh changes the mood. 

 

-

 

“You didn’t come back,” Nahuseresh snaps at him when Kamet comes to the living room after hearing him arrive, “you may be my personal assistant and therefore a little more free to do as you like than other assistants around the office, but that does not give you the freedom to just skip a whole day of work.” 

 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Kamet says immediately, “I must have misunderstood you when you told me to go home.” 

 

“Obviously I didn’t mean you should stay home,” Nahuseresh says, his anger flaring out just as suddenly as it had appeared, “I’m sure it comes to no surprise to you that your pay for today will be docked.” 

 

“Sir,” Kamet says. Does not bother to point out that in fact he had done all his work for today, and more, simply while at home. Does not bother to point out that Nahuseresh had certainly given him permission to go home. It’s not worth it. 

 

“To make up for your dismal performance today,” Nahuseresh tells him, “I feel I ought to inform you of my superb performance in winning Irene’s hand.” 

 

“Oh?” 

 

“You should see her. Swooning all over me. She thinks she is so sly, you should hear her, she suggested I make some donations to her company to ease the potential merger for her managers. As if she thinks this will benefit her when the company will belong more to Mede at the end of the week than it ever has to her.” 

 

“Oh,” Kamet says, “and did you donate?” 

 

“Of course,” Nahuseresh scoffs, waves his hand languidly, “the lady wanted to be appeased and flattered, so I appeased and flattered her. Hugely, I might add, she all but blushed at the cheque I handed over.” 

 

“Oh my,” Kamet says, knows his role in this conversation is simply to flatter, but can’t help himself from asking, “and was this cheque from your personal account for extra flattery, or was it the Mede accounts?” 

 

Nahuseresh snorts at him as if this is a stupid question, which, it probably is. 

 

“The Mede accounts,” Nahuseresh tells him, “the company will have it all, and more, returned once the takeover is complete. It is a very sensible investment, and I am sure the company will agree.” 

 

“Oh yes,” Kamet says. “What would you like for dinner?” 

-

  
  


Nahuseresh dines with Irene the following afternoon tea as well, which means that Kamet does not get to go to the Conspiracy Room. He also does not get a lunch break, seeing as Nahuseresh decides that to make up for his absence, he ought to stay in the office all day. This is not the first time Kamet has wished he had Costis’ number so he could text him. 

 

He texts Gen instead, but, despite Gen’s assurances that he could always text him, received no reply. 

 

He focuses on work. Thursday drifts past. 

 

-

 

Friday starts out badly, which in his experience means it will only continue getting worse, but somehow it gets better slowly throughout the day. 

 

It starts out badly because apparently Nahuseresh’s boss is not as confident as Nahuseresh is that dropping half a million on the Attolian company is the best idea. This means that Nahuseresh is angry and grumpy, which means that he yells at everyone in the office, and mostly at Kamet. Which means that Kamet spends all morning troubleshooting, not getting his normal work done, simply cleaning up messes as they occur. 

 

Luckily, a grumpy Nahuseresh means a Nahuseresh that wants to go home early and eat pastries, so, while Nahuseresh goes home via the masseuse after lunch, Kamet heads to the Conspiracy Room. 

 

-

 

Costis isn’t behind the counter, which is fine, of course. A blonder, slightly slimmer man is there instead. Kamet wonders if it’s part of the Attolian code to only hire waiters that look like they could bench press you and your table. 

 

“You’re Kamet,” the man says brightly when Kamet reaches him. A quick squint at the man’s (ample) chest reveals that his name is Aris. 

 

“I am,” Kamet says suspiciously. 

 

“You’re very late,” Aris tells him bluntly, which, Kamet supposes, is true enough for his normal routine, but shouldn’t be anything Aris is telling him. “I’m getting Costis.” 

 

“Excuse me?” Kamet tries, but to no avail as Aris has abandoned his post and disappeared through the curtain. 

 

He doesn’t really have time to focus on the oddness of the situation, because Costis appears a half moment later. 

 

“Sorry,” Costis greets him, “Aris thinks he’s being useful.” 

 

“I didn’t realise I had to be served by you only,” Kamet replies, and Costis grins at him. 

 

“Of course,” Costis says, “you’re my personal customer.” 

 

“Oh,” Kamet says, “and here I thought you were my personal waiter.” 

 

“You don’t come here enough to pay my wages,” Costis tells him through a smile, “I would consider it, anyway though.” 

 

Kamet, because he is well trained, does not blush. He does fumble with the cards in his hands a little though. 

 

“Um,” Kamet says, “I’d like to buy a large order of pastries today.” 

 

“Ah,” Costis says, “for Nahuseresh today?” 

 

“Yes,” Kamet says, “he’s having a bad day, so I’m buying his favourites to stop him from being so grumpy.” 

 

“Ah,” Costis says again, “oh dear.” 

 

“Oh dear indeed,” Kamet says, makes what he hopes is an appropriately shared experience of grumpy bosses expression. Whatever that’s supposed to look like. 

 

Costis is silent for a moment, which isn’t useful seeing as it means they are just standing with the counter in between them looking at each other. 

 

“So I’ll have the-” Kamet begins as Costis says; 

 

“Is it dangerous when he’s in a bad mood?” 

 

“Oh,” Kamet says, shocked right down to his toes at the bluntness, “oh.” 

 

“Because,” Costis continues, drops his voice very low, “I don’t want to - I don’t want to listen to gossip, but I’ve heard that he has a reputation of a very short temper and it’s just-” 

 

“Please,” Kamet says firmly, “I’ll have the pithivier, your golden wellington, and a round of the garlic bread.” 

 

“Kamet,” Costis says. 

 

“And a large coffee,” Kamet adds, “to go,” 

 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Costis sighs, “I did mean to pry, but I am sorry for it.” 

 

“It’s of no consequence,” Kamet says awkwardly, “let us forget it.” 

 

“Kamet,” Costis says again, and it sounds very much like he’s going to follow up by saying he doesn’t want to just forget it. 

 

“Costis,” Kamet says as firmly as he can without raising his voice, “forget it.” 

 

“No chai today?” Costis asks instead, he’s not looking at Kamet now, is focusing very hard on the till in front of him. 

 

“No chai,” Kamet confirms. 

 

“And I won’t see you tomorrow?” Costis asks, takes Kamet/Nahuseresh’s card, “Until the party?” 

 

Kamet nods. 

 

“I won’t try to speak to you,” Costis tells him, hands his card back, “don’t worry.” 

 

Kamet wonders if Costis is attempting to make him feel guilty, because his stomach is twisting with it, but Costis’ tone is not at all judgmental, more reassuring. 

 

“Thank you,” Kamet says, “I appreciate you respecting my need for professional boundaries.” 

 

He feels like a hypocrite saying this when he knows he does not treat Costis very professionally at Costis’ work, always eating with him and distracting him from his tasks. 

 

“I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” Costis tells him, “I will enjoy getting to catch glimpses of you at the party, though.” 

 

Kamet almost keeps his mouth shut. 

 

“So will I,” he says. 


	11. Something is happening

 

When he gets home, Nahuseresh is home as well, on the phone with his managers, and, amazingly, it appears to be going well. Kamet plates the pastries, fetches a bottle of wine, and puts them near Nahuseresh before going to sit in the corner of the room with his planner to wait until Nahuseresh wants him. 

 

The call finishes, Nahuseresh downs the glass of wine Kamet had poured him, then turns in his seat to smile at Kamet. 

 

“After much consideration,” he drawls, “our most excellent head, Ghuz, has come to realise how much more likely the merger is to happen with our considerable donation. He backs it.” 

 

“I’m glad,” Kamet offers, “I’m sure that is due entirely to your careful explanations. How was your massage?” 

 

“Passeable,” Nahuseresh says, “I knew we ought to have brought my masseuse to Attolia with us, these ones just don’t know how to use their hands.  Unlike their rent girls.” 

 

“Haha,” Kamet tries, “would you like to go over the plan for the party tomorrow?” 

  
  


-

  
  


Saturday starts ridiculously early. Not because it has to, but because Kamet is cursed with a horrific over-helping of anxiety, and he feels like if he doesn’t get up to start checking things at the crack of dawn everything will go very wrong. 

 

This means, that by lunch he is already exhausted. Which is fine. He plans for this exhaustion. He’ll eat and have a quick nap during his ‘break’, and then he’ll have a coffee and then he will be fine to continue. 

 

He eats. He does not nap, Nahuseresh requires his assistance during break to go over several emails of what has been said over the Attolian/Mede merger so far, and to calculate how soon they should pop the fucking champagne bottles. He drinks a lot of coffee. Nahuseresh leaves the office at three to go get his hair cut, his nails cleaned and tidied, his beard tinted. All very important things. Kamet stays in the office until half past five, which is the very latest he can afford to be away from the penthouse, and then he races home to check that the arrangements - which he had been managing via phone all day - had gone entirely according to plan. The decorations look opulent, the hors devours look exquisite. It certainly looks like a multi million deal is about to be made. Nahuseresh laughs at him when he rushes off to go change. 

 

“Thank God no one is going to give a fuck how you look,” Nahuseresh calls after him, “we wouldn’t want this deal to hang on your hangnails.” 

 

Kamet has no hangnails. He looks perfectly acceptable. He just needs to change into his suit, comb his hair, touch up his light concealer. He’s fine. Thank you very much. This is what he mutters to himself as he checks himself in the mirror. 

 

“Gods no,” is what he calls cheerfully back to Nahuseresh through his door. 

 

-

 

He is very aware that The Conspiracy room chefs and waiters are all here. In his house. Not all of them, obviously, but a large group of them.  They’re secreted away in the kitchen making, and plating, and arranging, and Costis is in there too. He wants to go in and say hi. He needs to go in and check that everything is going to plan, but he doesn’t want to go in there and check because then he’ll want to say hi and if he says hi he’ll probably want to smile and then he’ll want to ask how he is and then - 

 

He has to go in anyway. 

 

They aren’t wearing their Conspiracy Room outfits, instead wearing the plan black outfits Nahuseresh had asked to be provided for them. He doesn’t like branding at his parties, unless it’s his own branding. 

 

“Everything is going according to plan?” Kamet asks as he enters the kitchen. He’s directing his question to the head chef, a giant of a woman he had met only briefly upon arranging the hire, but his eyes are flicking - without his permission - around the room at the gathered waiters and cooks. 

 

“Yes,” the chef says, “we expect first guests in ten minutes? Come out with traveling trays in fifteen?” 

 

“Yes,” Kamet affirms, can’t see Costis anywhere, “you are all here?” 

 

“Yes,” the chef says, eyebrows raised, “we don’t have a habit of lateness.” 

 

“Good,” Kamet says, Costis is not here, he bows his way out. 

 

He makes his way back to the mainroom, where Nahuseresh is, twirling his moustache. Attempts to tell himself that Costis not being here is actually quite a good thing really, this way Kamet won’t have a reason to be distracted. He does feel odd about it though. Costis said he would be here. Kamet had wanted to see him. 

 

-

 

Irene Attolia arrives half an hour later, which is, of course, to be expected. That she isn’t even later is almost surprising. She arrives, and floats immediately to Nahuseresh’s side, hands outstretched. She’s followed at a distance by her managers, her men. Kamet doesn’t recognise most of them personally, he’s seen them floating around in official documents, sometimes even on the street seeing as Attolia is a very small place. It’s almost a little awkward, because Kamet is very, very aware that the people in this room is mostly very, very high up Attolians, and the highest Mede here was Nahuseresh. While, maybe, the attendance is almost half and half Attolian/Mede, the Medes are not really the best showing of Mede culture. If Kamet had had more influence in the finer points of planning the party, he would have suggested that they invite several Mede officials, but, he wasn’t, so he hadn’t. 

 

It is a surprise when he sees Relius arrive. Or, he doesn’t see Relius arrive, because he’s standing across the room, and he needs damned glasses to see someone properly from that far away, but when he enters, one of Attolia’s men calls out to him. 

Kamet can see he is accompanied by a shorter man in a very fancy looks suit, not really a suit so much as a cape. He had definitely seen the ‘formal’ part of the invitation and decided it meant he ought to look formal such as ancient kings. The shorter man breaks off from Relius’s side, heads towards Irene and Nahuseresh, which means that he is probably someone Kamet ought to know about. Not that there’s any real reason he ought to know. Nahuseresh ahsn’t been keeping him very informed about his Attolian contacts as of recently. He is still interested though, so he’s just attempting to excuse himself from his half hearted conversation with the receptionist from the office downstairs in the Mede buildings, when Relius approaches. 

 

-

 

“Kamet,” Relius greets him, very friendly, as if Kamet hadn’t agreed to come back and chat and had never come back and chatted and had instead very obviously avoided him. 

 

“Relius,” Kamet replies, faking the same fiction. 

 

“How are you enjoying Attolia?” Relius asks, “You must be very busy.” 

 

“Oh,” Kamet says, smiles graciously, “I am. Attolia is - well. I have to admit I have not seen as much of it as I would have liked, as I am very busy a lot of the time. I apologise for not having made time to come back to your library.” 

 

Relius waves one hand, “It is not my library,” he says, “and I understand how busy you’ve been, so no hard feelings.” 

 

Obviously Kamet had not meant to imply that the library  _ belonged _ to Relius, the distinction was not one he needed made. However. 

 

“That’s good of you,” Kamet smiles, and then, “I hope this doesn’t offend, but, I wasn’t aware you were on the invitation list. It is very good to see you though.” 

 

“Ah,” Relius says, and he is smiling still, “yes indeed, you would have been the one planning this event, it must be a surprise for me to be here when you did not invite me.” 

 

Kamet smiles politely, because, his questions has not been answered. 

 

“The library work is my hobby,” Relius says, “I am part of Attolia’s council.” 

 

“The place or the woman?” 

 

“Both,” Relius says, “although I am more attached to Irene, I will be honest.” 

 

“It seems most people are,” Kamet observes, “I have not heard a bad word about her from anyone who lives here.” 

 

“That’s good to hear,” Relius replies genially, “I feel that as a community we are quite loyal.” 

 

Kamet has this very odd feeling that he is being told something that he is not getting, but, as he’s not getting it, he can’t respond appropriately. Instead he smiles, nods, catches sight of the time on Nahuseresh’s ornate grandfather clock to his left. .

 

“Oh,” Kamet says, “I’m sorry, I truly would love to catch up, but I am supposed to be checking the kitchen for some timed preparations right now.” 

 

“Of course,” Relius says, and it is obvious in his very polite smile that he is disappointed that Kamet did not understand what he had been told. “I hope we will speak again,” Relius adds before Kamet can excuse himself. It is an odd turn of phrase. 

 

“I’m sure I will catch you again before the party is over,” Kamet offers, “I had some thoughts on Aristophanes that I would very much like to run past you.” 

 

Relius nods, Kamet turns and hurries off to the kitchen. 

 

Nahuseresh, although he isn’t a fan of running to anyone elses schedule, likes things to be very carefully timetabled, and gods forbid that Kamet let anything run late. According to Nahuseresh’s schedule, he ought to be getting confirmation of the merger with Attolia within the next ten minutes. Champagne ought to be ready to be brought out in the minutes following this, and then honey cakes - as deference to Irene’s apparent favourite cake - a few minutes after everyone has their glasses. 

 

Kamet thinks this will be very lovely, if everything goes according to plan, of course, and Nahuseresh is extremely certain it will go according to plan. 

 

-

 

It is only when he enters the kitchen this time does he realise that Costis’ friend Aris is here, and he only realises this because Aris is close to the door when Kamet comes in, and therefore Kamet can make out his features. He has maybe a minute or two to spare, and he really does want to know where Costis is. 

 

“Oh,” Kamet says, attempting to sound both in control and yet surprised, “Aris. I was hoping to get a word.” 

 

Aris smiles at him, a very different sort of smile to the smile he had worn just the other day when Kamet had seen him in the shop. 

 

“You can have a few words, if you’d like,” Aris tells him. 

 

Kamet pushes his mouth into an appropriately amused smile. He thinks that maybe the stress of this party, and the amount of money and pride riding on the success of it, would feel less if he wasn’t feeling so stupidly caught up on Costis not being here. 

 

“I was simply wondering where Costis was tonight,” Kamet says, “I thought he was scheduled to be here? Has he fallen ill?” 

 

“He wanted to be here,” Aris tells him, “but our...new manager scheduled him elsewhere tonight. I promise you he is as unhappy about this as you are.” 

 

Kamet considers pointing out that he is not unhappy about this, just a little askance at the change of plans, but that might be to blatantly a lie, so he doesn’t. 

 

“That is unfortunate,” Kamet says. 

 

“It is,” Aris agrees, “I am sure he-” 

 

They are interrupted by Phresine at Aris’ elbow. 

 

“I hate to interrupt,” she says in a tone that says that in fact, she quite enjoys interrupting, and would have had this situation no other way. “But we have encountered a situation, and might need your assistance, Kamet.” 

 

Kamet very much hates this. 

 

“Oh?” he says, “What appears to be the problem?” 

 

It makes sense, seeing how little Nahuseresh really confides in him, how little trust he is given even while expected to bear the brunt of the work, that the biggest problem occurs while Kamet is out of the room and very out of the loop. 

 

Phresine has opened her mouth to explain whatever problem there is, and that is when the yelling begins down the corridor and out in the main room where the party is being held. She looks very put out when Kamet steps away. He hears someone, possibly Aris, calling his name as he leaves the kitchen, but he pays them no heed. Something is happening and it will be his fucking head if it ruins the party. 

  
  



	12. Rethru Docks

Kamet has always liked being in Medea. He likes the temperature, he likes the food, he likes the music, the architecture. It’s all good. None of this really matters so much though when he’s confined to Nahuseresh’s family home as all of this overshadowed by the bickering and outright fighting between Nahuseresh and his wife. They have a lot to fight about. They fight about Nahuseresh’s many infidelities, they fight about Nerissa’s money wasting, they fight about Nahuseresh’s failures, they fight about Nerissa’s lack of tact, they fight about Nahuseresh losing all their family honour over some terrible gamble, losing money, losing face, losing their entire foothold in Attolia, being drawn in by a pretty face, being blind to a pretty face, being blind. 

 

They fight about all of these things, over, and over, and over again until Nahuseresh’s brother persuades the company that Nahuseresh isn’t a complete loss, and that he has plenty to offer still, and Nahuseresh gets to come back to the city to his office. This does not mean he gets his old job back, nor the same amount of respect. He lost a lot of friends when he lost the offices in Attolia, when he cost the company millions of dollars in legal fees and settling. 

 

So. They are back in the office, back among the elegance of it all. Kamet has less opportunity to appreciate this now, though. All his time is spent on his normal everyday jobs and on cooling Nahuseresh down, and on trying to work respect back into their daily life. It’s not easy. It’s especially not easy at the beginning of each week when Kamet has to be careful with his makeup, with how he sits, with what clothes he’s wearing. With not thinking about how embarrassed he is about every fucking thing that happened in Attolia. 

 

-

 

He hasn’t made an actual mistake for months. Not since they had come back to Medea. Sure, Nahuseresh had blamed shit on him, but nothing had actually been his fault. This time it was his fault. 

 

Nahuseresh’s brother had found him an in, and opening to a job that ought to help get him some respect back. It ought to get him money back. Best of all, it’s not too ambitious. It’s something Kamet can see the higher ups easily giving Nahuseresh because he  _ is _ still from a good family. He is still a big name. He is still someone with sway, even if half his friends have abandoned him for fear of being tarred with his failure brush. Best, best, best of all, it’ll take them very far away from Nahuseresh’s wife (while still being in Mede culture), and Kamet won’t have to put up with Nerissa’s visits turning everything upside down. 

 

However. 

The fault. 

The fault of Kamet was that he expected Nahuseresh to get this job. He was  _ certain _ that Nahuseresh would get this job. 

So. He got ready to celebrate. They had had precious little to celebrate recently, the remchik and liquors had only been brought out for misery drinking, but today, Kamet hoped it would be happy drinking. He had the drinks poured, set out on the table, ready for Nahuseresh and his brother to come back. 

 

Nahuseresh had not got the job. 

 

Kamet had been sent away. Had had to walk the hallways between the offices to their rooms in shame and horror, attempting to keep his face as much hidden as possible, which is very difficult when you are wearing a suit and walking through well lit hallways. 

 

He doesn’t manage it. 

 

“Kamet!” Laela calls out to him as he tries to rush past a collection of open lounge areas, “Oh, Kamet.” 

 

Laela is one of the only people in Medea Kamet truly thinks of as a friend. They had joined the Mede company under similar situations, and sometimes he felt like she was the only one he was allowed to take his mask off for. 

 

He pauses, head down. 

 

“Oh, Kamet,” Laela says again, drawing closer. She reaches out one hand as if to touch him, and then draws back quickly. He’s glad. He doesn’t want her to get his blood on her perfectly manicured hands. 

 

“It’s nothing,” Kamet says dully, “I tripped in the stationary room while collecting supplies. It looks worse than it is. I’m heading to my room now to clean up.” 

 

Laela knows this is a lie. She also knows that there is no way Kamet will admit it is a lie. 

 

“Come to my rooms,” she suggests, “they are closer and you look pale. Less people will see you.” 

 

Kamet considers. 

 

“I need to be where Nahuseresh can find me, should he want me,” he says. 

 

“I will make sure he knows where you are,” Laela says, “come to my rooms.” 

 

Kamet lets himself be led away to her rooms. Lets her dab blood away from his face. Lets her see the full extent of the damage before he has. Lets her remove his jacket and his shirt to look at the already bruising swelling on his shoulders. Lets her tsk and sigh and give him the look that means she knows it was Nahuseresh. 

 

“You shouldn’t let him treat you like this,” she says softly as she directs him to lie down on her bed, “I know we don’t have much say in - in much here - but - you deserve far more.” 

 

“It’s not so bad,” Kamet deflects, closes his eyes, “it could be worse.” 

 

“Kamet,” Laela says, sighs, “you know you could leave here,” she says, very soft. 

 

Kamet keeps his eyes shut. 

 

“You can,” Laela insists, “you have such good education, and experience, you’re well known among the company and out of them. If you send out some emails - someone would snatch you up.” 

 

“I can’t,” Kamet says. “You know about my… debts. I’m - I am indebted to Nahuseresh. I’ve signed a contact. I can’t just -” 

 

“Find a company willing to pay off your debts,” Laela suggests, “I don’t think it would be as hard as you think.” 

 

“Laela,” Kamet says. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. “Where would I go,” he says, not as a question. “I have no place to go.”

 

Laela sighs, lets him drop the subject. Tells him to sleep, that she’ll send for him when Nahuseresh wants him. 

 

He sleeps. 

 

He wakes to Laela shaking him.

 

He goes back to his apartment.

 

He can’t open one eye, he can feel himself limping, he has to walk with his head down all the way back to his apartment. 

 

Nahuseresh wants to look him over when he gets back. He’s wearing his apologetic face, not quite in the eyes, but everywhere else. He has bruise cream and numbing cream, and painkillers, and hands that press everywhere especially into the dark, dark bruise on his shoulder where Nahuseresh hit him with the ornamental figure on his desk. 

 

Once he has looked him over everywhere, he dresses Kamet’s injuries, drugs him up, tucks him into bed with the strange tenderness he only has when he is the reason for Kamet’s tears. 

 

Kamet sleeps. 

 

-

 

It takes him a week, an entire week, before he is able to return to most of his tasks. And then, he only works from their apartment. His bruises are too dark, scrapes too rough to hide properly under makeup. He can’t hide his limp, either. So. He works from home, which is in the compound anyway, and keeps himself out of major business, and Nahuseresh lets him. 

 

He has a lot to catch up on. 

 

The good thing about being non-functioning for a week is that Nahuseresh all but leaves him alone. Gets over his anger at not getting the job. Well, not over it, but enough that his mind is occupied with other things. 

 

Kamet does not complain.

 

-

 

Two weeks later he is still healing. Easily enough hidden under concealer now, though. His ribs ache, but he can move without limping, without people knowing.  He is sick and tired of staying inside, though. Bored to death of working from his rooms. He can move, so he does. Picks up a list of errands Nahuseresh has been collating for him to do, and heads out. 

Most of the errands are in the compound, and only the suits order requires Kamet to leave and go into town. It’s not very far, just a quick walk as the compound is in the very heart of the city, and this particular tailor is off the main street. He saves it for last, so he can savour the walk. 

 

It happens when he gets back to the compound. He’s coming in through one of the back entrances, doesn’t want to bump into too many people. He has barely passed the entranceway, slipped into the back hall when he notices someone coming towards him. They are very big, big enough that in this narrow hall, there probably isn’t enough room for them to pass each other easily, so he steps into one of the small window alcoves to make space for the other man to pass. He doesn’t. 

 

He stops right by Kamet. Kamet nods, is keeping his eyes directed to the floor, because, his makeup may be impeccable, but he still doesn’t want to be under close scrutiny.

 

“Kamet,” says a voice which Kamet had been certain he was never going to hear again. “Do you not recognise me?” 

 

He looks up. 

 

It is Costis, standing there, unbelievably, wearing a suit, one of the intern name tags, and a small crooked smile. 

 

“Do I really look so different in a suit?” Costis asks. 

 

Kamet shakes his head. 

 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get in contact with you,” Costis says, as if their separation has been entirely his fault, as if this is the most important thing about what is happening right now. “Please believe me when I say I wanted to come for you as soon as possible.” 

 

“Come for me?” Kamet asks, is horrified that the first words he says to Costis after nearly a full year is said in a cracked voice. 

 

“To offer you a job,” Costis says, “with the Attolian company. Our directors have requested you personally. You were supposed to be offered the job while you were in Attolia, but some… internal disruptions stalled it.” 

 

“What?” Kamet says. 

 

“The directors will pay your debt in full,” Costis says quickly, “and will pay you more than the Medes. They only ask that you come now, and that you will testify against Nahuseresh.” 

 

“Come now?” Kamet repeats, shocked, “I’m in the middle of - of things,” he stutters, and then, “testify for what?”

 

Costis looks exceedingly apologetic, uncomfortable, and nervous. 

 

“I know it is a shock, and out of the blue,” Costis says, “I know, but, please - this company is going to self combust, and if you don’t get out of it soon it will take you down with it.” 

 

Kamet had, until now, been entirely unsure of where is emotions were going to land. On how he felt to see Costis again. He settles on anger. 

 

“Attolia may have won the case in her land,” Kamet snaps, “but that was one incident, one branch. The Mede Empire is stronger then any of your small companies, and is nowhere near failure.” 

 

He is very familiar with this speil. Nahuseresh gives it often. It is one of the few things Nahuseresh says now that Kamet almost entirely agrees with. 

 

“Kamet,” Costis says, and it’s a little unfair that he does, because he says it with such feeling. “Please, at least think about it. I will be out by the Rethru Dock this evening. I have a ferry booked across the straits to take us back to Attolia. There is a space for you.” 

 

He looks earnest enough that there is no way Kamet can say no. But surely, there is also no way he can say yes. 

 

“You will not stay in Medea for any longer?” Kamet asks instead. Costis shakes his head. “I will think about it,” Kamet says. 

 

Costis is reaching out for his hand, squeezing him far gentler than hands that big should. 

 

“I have missed you,” he says, again, unfair. “I’m sorry this is all I can offer.” 

 

Kamet doesn’t think he can say anything else, so he only nods. Waits until Costis releases his hands, and then stands back to let Costis leave. 

 

Then he continues on his way down the hallway. 

 

He does not know what he wishes for more. 

If he wishes he had asked for Costis’ phone number, at the very least. If he had managed to slip by Costis without notice. If he had been able to hold onto Costis and go with him right then and there. That his heart would slow back down, quieten, get back into his chest. That his eyes would stop burning. 

 

-

 

He has just stepped into the elevator to go up the his apartment when Laela hurries towards him. He holds the doors open for her, and steps back as she steps in. It’s a shock when, as soon as the doors close, she steps close into his space and he can see her face is taut with emotion. 

 

“Laela-” he begins. 

 

“Kamet,” she says, “Nahuseresh has been arrested.” 

 

Kamet’s brain short-circuits. 

 

“He has been accused of siphoning money from the company,” Laela says in a rush, “his entire apartment is overrun with police.” 

 

“When-” Kamet begins, because, he was only in town for an hour at most. 

 

“At noon,” Laela says, he was arrested while in the meeting with his brother and the head of the company.” 

 

“Oh-” Kamet says. 

 

“He will try and pin it on you,” Laela says, “you know he will.”

 

“I didn’t-” Kamet begins, uselessly. 

 

Laela nods impatiently. “I know,” she says, “you have to get out of here.” 

 

“That will only enforce their belief of my guilt-” Kamet says and Laela shakes her again. 

 

“They will want to drag you down as well in anyway they can. The best you can do is to get out of Medea before seeking to pardon yourself.” 

 

None of this makes any sense. 

 

“You have to go,” Laela tells him, “I will not see you drown in this after all you have worked for and done.” 

 

None of this makes any sense. 

 

“Go, Kamet,” Laela says. 

 

They have reached his floor now, and Laela is reaching out past him to jab the doors shut again, has already stabbed in the ground floor. “Go.” 

 

-

 

He cannot return back for his things. 


	13. I'm Very Buttery

He does not know what is the wisest course of action here. He needs to get out of Medea as soon as possible. He knows this. He knows that if he is arrested here he will not be able to get himself out, he will not be able to defend himself. He needs to be somewhere they can’t immediately reach him, somewhere they have to go through lawyers. Attolia would be good for that. He knows places he can go in Attolia. If he gets to Attolia he can try and get a plea deal. If he goes to Attolia, it would have to be with Costis. If Costis finds out that Nahuseresh has been fired? Is arrested? That the police also want to arrest Kamet? He doesn’t know what Costis will do. He wants to think that Costis will take his side, but, he truthfully doesn’t know Costis as well as he needs to know that for certain. What he does know of Costis is that he is solid, and sensible, and loyal, and all of those attributes makes him think that Costis would believe the police and law enforcement are incorruptible and in the right, and he might report Kamet in, and  _ gods _ . 

 

He needs to get money out before his accounts are shut down. 

He needs to do it soon before they start tracking him by his accounts. 

He needs to do it now so he can start making a plan because you can do nothing in Medea or anywhere else without money. 

 

He wants to go straight to Costis because Costis has a plan to get out of here and Costis has a smile that’s calming and Costis is - 

 

He is going to get money out. He is going to retrace his steps to see if he can find Costis. He is going to go to the Rethru docks and wait for Costis to appear because no one in their right mind would even consider looking for Kamet at the Rethru docks. 

 

-

 

He doesn’t find Costis still in the compound, so he goes to the docks. His plan is to find one of the small shady cafe bars, order a pot of tea, and sit there for as long as possible until it’s dark enough for Costis to appear. He gets money out. He goes to the docks. He goes down all back alleys, gives himself a million heart attacks whenever a siren starts up somewhere in the city, whenever anyone bumps into him. He ditches his phone in a bin he passes. His pager discreetly down a drain. His work phone over a bridge. He feels utterly lost. He gets to the docks. He turns to look for a cafe. He bumps fucking smack bang straight into Costis’ overly large chest. 

 

“Kamet,” Costis says, sounds very, very surprised as he reaches out to steady Kamet, hands gripping his shoulders tightly, “are you alright?” 

 

“Yes,” Kamet says immediately, because that is the only thing you ever say to that. “I know I am early. I apologise. I made up my mind and thought I should come before I could unmake it.” 

 

“I understand,” Costis says, voice overly soft, “our ferry doesn’t leave until the evening though so -” 

 

“I can’t stay on the streets,” Kamet says, can feel panic suddenly bubbling up in his throat, “I don’t - if someone from the compound sees me I feel like I might be swayed. I need -” 

 

Costis is already nodding. Kamet can see he is thinking hard, his eyes have gone all unfocused, and his fingers, still hooked around Kamet’s shoulders, are shifting and rubbing at the fabric of Kamet’s shirt. 

 

“There’s a cinema round the corner,” Costis says after a few moments, releases Kamet’s shoulders. “We could go see a movie? Food and drink and a dark place to calm down, and no one will try and talk to you in there.” 

 

Costis is a gem.

 

He nods. 

 

Costis smiles at him, and then, ridiculously, holds his hand out to Kamet as if he expects Kamet to take it so they can walk to the cinema hand in hand. 

 

Kamet pretends he has not seen this, because  _ god. _

 

They walk to the cinema. Costis buys them tickets, a large popcorn to share, a coke for himself, and an orange and mango juice for Kamet. They sit right in the very back of the cinema, popcorn in between them. It’s not exactly peak movie time, and Costis has chosen a very odd movie, so it’s not busy at all, in fact, they are the only ones in the movie theatre, which is why Kamet feels safe enough to ask what he does next during the trailers. 

 

“I heard the Attolian government and business were in disarray,” he says, “after Irene Attolia married and merged with the… uh… Eddisian?” 

“They were for a while,” Costis says easily, “I admit things were difficult until he proved his worth.” 

 

“I had heard he hadn’t proven his worth,” Kamet says. 

 

Costis laughs outright. 

 

“I suppose that depends on who you ask,” he agrees, which is not helpful to Kamet at all. “I like him, well enough, but that reminds me,” he adds on, “you’ll never believe I like him at all when I tell you who he is.” 

 

Kamet can tell Costis is doing his best to shift them straight back into the hard worked for ease they had had back in Attolia. For the comforting teasing conversation. He can’t let himself slip into this. 

 

“So, tell me.” 

 

“You remember that awful worker at the cafe?” Costis says, “The one I told you almost got me fired? The one who was fired before and then re-hired?” 

 

Kamet just stares at him and Costis’ face falls a little. 

 

“It has been a long time,” Costis says hurriedly, “I don’t really expect you to remember-” 

 

“I remember,” Kamet says crossly, “are you actually telling me that that foolish and clumsy employee is now your boss? And the boss of the majority of Attolia?” 

 

“Yes,” Costis snorts, “isn’t that ridiculous?” 

 

“Is he still as foolish and clumsy?” 

 

“Oh yes,” Costis says, snorts again, “but I think it is mostly on purpose. He is… infuriating, and yet, he does a good job. I appreciate him.” 

 

Kamet would ask more, but Costis’ eyes are glued on the screen now as the movie begins, and Kamet is forced into silence by the thunderous musical intro. 

 

Instead, he stares at Costis, lit in blues and yellows from the movie playing in front of them. He can’t believe that this is  _ his _ Costis. In Medea. After over a year. Sitting next to him watching some god awful stupid movie. He doesn’t want to be. He wants to be  _ doing _ something about all of this. He wants Costis to do what he does and lessen the anxiety pooling in Kamet’s stomach, burning in his throat. He wants, wants, wants  _ something _ . 

 

So he reaches over the armrest, past the popcorn so he can reach for Costis’ hand even though he had been so unwilling before. 

 

Costis jerks so hard at Kamet’s light touch at his hand, that the popcorn goes flying. 

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Kamet mumbles, drawing his hand back immediately, shifting off of his seat and onto his knees painfully so he can start clearing up the spilled popcorn, reaching under the seat for the still rolling container. 

 

“Gods,” Costis says, “no, I’m sorry, you just surprised me, Kamet, hey,” he says, leans over his knees so he can peer down between the seats at Kamet, “leave it.” 

 

“No,” Kamet says staunchly, scoops popcorn up greasily to shovel it into the container, “it’s a huge mess and-” 

 

“So let me,” Costis suggests, “I was the one who knocked it - just -” 

 

“No,” Kamet says again. Keeps his head down. Clears as much popcorn as he can.

 

Costis doesn’t say anything else until Kamet shifts back up onto his seat, puts the floor popcorn onto the seat next to him so it won’t get knocked again. Then he says; 

 

“Will you hold my hand, now, then? Or did I blow my chance entirely?” 

 

“I’m very buttery,” Kamet mumbles. 

 

“I don’t care,” Costis replies. 

 

Now it’s Kamet staring hard at the movie playing out in front of him, Costis staring at the side of his face. 

 

“I haven’t seen you for so long,” Kamet says to the movie, “even though we had been - maybe we were close to doing - something - in Attolia. It’s different now. Things have changed.” 

 

“Things have changed,” Costis agrees, “a lot. If it helps, my feelings for you haven’t changed in the slightest.” 

 

“You haven’t been around me at all,” Kamet says sharply, “you barely knew me in Attolia. Your feelings surely can’t have been very strong to begin with.” 

 

“Strong enough that they haven’t faded,” Costis says, then goes for humour, “and so long as you’re not secretly married or something, I’d very much like to show you how strong they are.” 

 

“Secretly married like Nahuseresh?” Kamet asks, knows how mad Nerissa had been when she had found out just how far Nahuseresh’s flirting with Irene had gone. Could imagine how mad Irene would have been. “Or secretly engaged like Irene?” If Nerissa had been mad about Nahuseresh’s unfaithfulness, Nahuseresh had been mad that Irene hadn’t told  _ him _ she was engaged and unavailable. 

 

Costis scoffs. 

 

“Are you secretly engaged?” Kamet continues when Costis doesn’t reply. 

 

“No,” Costis says. “No. There’s no one else in my life. It’s just you.” 

 

This is so ridiculous. Mostly because Kamet hasn’t even been in Costis’ life for over a year, and he had barely been in it before hand. This is ridiculous because Kamet is certainly not in the habit of looking for romance, or wanting romance, or having a chance at romance. Ridiculous because Kamet had never ever imagined himself standing up in a nearly empty cinema so he can sit himself down again on someone else’s knees to kiss them. 

Apparently Costis had not expected that either, because he doesn’t kiss him back at first. Just sits there motionless under Kamet as if he thinks if he moves at all he’ll scare Kamet off. When Kamet pulls back a little, to look down at Costis’ face, Costis is staring back up at him, mouth open a little. 

 

“Why did you do that?” Costis asks, which just adds to the amount of ridiculous Kamet currently feels. 

 

“I thought you wanted me to,” Kamet replies stiffly, which is, apparently not what Costis wanted to hear, because he frowns. Kamet frowns back, moves to get off of Costis, and Costis finally moves, shifts his hands from his sides to Kamet’s, grips him loosely. He could very easily get off of Costis still if he chose, but he doesn’t. 

 

“Just for that?” Costis asks. 

 

Kamet frowns further. 

 

“Don’t be an idiot,” he says. 

 

“Let me be an idiot just for a moment,” Costis says firmly, “for the sake of clarity. Gods know not much in my life is very clear. Why did you kiss me, Kamet?” 

 

Kamet considers getting off of Costis’ lap after all. Maybe he could find his way out of Medea by himself without having a complete and utter break down. 

 

“Obviously,” Kamet says, “because my feelings haven’t changed, either.” 

 

“And what were your feelings?” Costis presses, “The ones that haven’t changed?” 

 

Kamet has always been good with his words. It's what you get when you spend all your time soothing tempers and reading academic and business papers. Right now his words are failing his a little, because, he has had very little practice in this type of speaking. He’s a little worried that if he opens his mouth to let feelings out, all of his carefully kept and tidied away feelings will fall out. Not just about Costis, but about everything. This is not the time or place for that. 

 

“This,” Kamet says instead, leans down again to press a second light kiss to Costis’ lips, and this time, Costis kisses back. Barely a shift of lips, but enough that Kamet feels like he’s answered correctly this time. 

 

This time when Kamet draws back, Costis is smiling, and, unfortunately for Kamet, this makes him feel suddenly immensely guilty, makes him open his mouth and drop out some of the feelings he had only a moment before been intent on keeping to himself. 

 

“Nahuseresh was fired,” he says plainly, stripping Costis’ smile off. “And there is a warrant for my arrest as well. I need to get out of Medea as soon as possible to avoid being arrested for crimes I didn’t commit.”  

 

Costis stares at him. 

 

“Please,” Kamet says, “please don’t be sensible about this and tell me to turn myself in.” 

 

“Is  _ that _ why you kissed me?” Costis asks. 

 

“No,” Kamet says, “no. I told you this because I kissed you, I didn’t kiss you so I could tell you this.” 

 

“I wouldn’t tell you to turn yourself in,” Costis says stiffly. He’s angry. “You just said you didn’t commit any of the crimes. Why would I want to turn you in?” 

 

“Because,” Kamet says. Can’t dredge up anything else right now. 

 

“I know better than to trust the Medean law enforcement when it comes to money and politics,” Costis says, “did you really think I would refuse to take you to Attolia with me after all?” 

 

Kamet shrugs. He has to hope that the fact that Costis is still holding him loosely around his middle is a good sign. 

 

“I wouldn’t,” Costis says vehemently. “We’re going to Attolia. The directors will make sure you are properly represented.” 

 

Kamet nods. Then; “Why a ferry? Wouldn’t it be quicker to fly?” 

 

“It would be,” Costis agrees, sighs heavily, “but I was told it would be safer for the both of us to go a less high profile route. No one will think to look for us on the ferries.” 

 

“They wouldn’t have been expecting me to leave, if it weren’t for Nahuseresh’s firing,” Kamet says, “so they wouldn’t have been looking for us anyway.” 

 

Costis shrugs. 

 

“Maybe,” he says, “maybe Eugenides knew Nahuseresh was going to be fired.” 

 

“Eugenides?” Kamet says, raises his eyebrows, “You are on first name basis with Mr Attolia?” 

 

Costis shrugs again. “I was with Irene, as well,” he points out. 

 

“Everyone refers to him as Eugenides here, as well,” Kamet says, “although I think in this case it is more of an insult than as affection.” 

 

“Probably,” Costis says, “a lot of places and people are not happy he is in such a powerful position.” 

 

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Kamet says.

 

“What do you want to do about this?” Costis asks. 

 

“What?” Kamet says. 

 

“About this,” Costis repeats, shifts his knees under Kamet, tightens his grip on his hips, “about us.” 

 

Kamet had managed to forget for a few seconds that he was, in fact, sitting on Costis’ knees. Just thinking about his position flusters him slightly. 

 

“I,” he says coherently, “I’m not sure what I want to do. Certainly nothing in a movie theatre, even if no one else is in here. And I’ve never been a big fan of boats, so nothing there either-” 

 

“I meant,” Costis cuts in, “I meant - I meant do you want to  _ date _ me? Gods, Kamet.” 

 

“Oh,” Oh. “Yes,” Kamet says. Is well aware he’s flushing. “Yes.” 

 

“Well,” Costis says, “good. But yes, I second that I don’t want to do anything in a movie theatre.” 

 

“Right,” Kamet nods, “yes,” he says, “I had better get off of you, as well, I suppose.” 

 

“I’m not really paying any attention to the movie, anyway,” Costis says, “so if you would like you could stay where you are and we could… kiss more?” 

 

“That’s not really something I do,” Kamet says slowly, “feels a little teenager-esque. A  little rude.” 

 

“No one is here,” Costis reminds him. 

 

“You will remember that I’m actually a very proper person, won’t you?” Kame asks, only mostly serious, “and very mature.” 

 

“Yes,” Costis says. 


	14. So Help You

Now he’s told Costis about Nahuseresh, about the possibility of being hunted down by police, Kamet feels a lot better. Not wholly better, obviously, there’s still probably police after him, still his academic self on the line. But. Costis is by his side, in the full knowledge of what is going on. Is by his side and holding onto his hand because you can do that sort of thing in a dark movie theatre. 

 

They get onto the ferry with no problem, Costis and his easy going attitude coasting them through check in and into their cabin. 

 

“So,” Kamet says, perching uneasily on one of the cabin chairs, “what happens next? Now you’ve successfully stolen me away.” 

 

“I won’t be successful until I have you out of Medea,” Costis replies, dropping himself heavily down on one of the bunk beds, “we stay on the ferry for a day and a half, and then we disembark just out from Thegmis which is very near Attolia. My car is waiting for us at a long term park there, and we’ll drive in straight to Irene’s and Eugenides’ house. From there Eugenides and Irene will fill you in. I don’t know all the details. What I do know is that you will be offered a job that pays at least two figures over what you’re currently receiving, that your debts will be fully paid, and that Eugenides will not care that Nahuseresh is fired and you have Medean police after you. I promise.” 

 

“You are awfully sure of that,” Kamet says, “I have to admit I’m surprised that the two of you can have become such good friends when the last thing I heard of this man before this was that you occasionally wanted to kill him.” 

 

“Ah,” Costis laughs, “I often still want to kill him. But I’ve gotten to know him a lot better since then. I trust him. He says he wants the best for you, I believe him.” 

 

“I do not understand why he would when he doesn’t even know me,”  Kamet replies, “it makes no sense to me that he would gamble on my coming when he doesn’t even know where my loyalties lie.” 

 

Costis shrugs. 

 

“I was surprised too,” he says, “mostly because he came to me and seemed to already know we were friends. That’s why he asked me to come.” 

 

“How did he know  _ that _ ,” Kamet asks, “he actually is a spy like everyone in Medea claims, isn’t he?” 

 

“Well,” he says, “I guess a bit.” 

 

“You guess a bit?” 

 

“Yes,” Costis says, shrugs again, laughs again, “how do you want to spend the next day and a half, then, Kamet?” 

 

Kamet knows very well that this is very much a loaded question. 

 

“Didn’t I say not on boats?” Kamet says. 

 

Costis grins at him. 

 

“I would say this is more of a ship than a boat,” he points out. 

 

Kamet shrugs, “Well,” he says, “if you say so.” 

 

-

 

The biggest problem with making out in the ship, as it turns out, is not that the rocking and creaking is sickening or distracting, but rather that the lighting is reasonably good, and the friction of skin on skin rubs Kamet’s makeup off and he had  _ forgotten _ he was wearing it, and  _ gods above _ at least this time he is not standing in the middle of a cafe in public horror struck. Lying in Costis’ arms horror struck is better, but still not good. 

 

“Oh,” Costis says, “ _ Oh _ .”

 

“Ah,” Kamet says, can see the foundation smeared from his skin to Costis’ skin easily, knows that he must be careful with his next words. Is so tired of being careful. “They’re old,” he says, “just taking a while to fade. It’s fine.” 

 

“It isn’t  _ fine _ ,” Costis says, is pulling back and away from Kamet, “does it still hurt? Have I been hurting them?” 

 

“No,” Kamet says, “no. I had entirely forgotten they existed to be quite honest, I was - stop looking at me like that, please, it is fine.” 

 

“It was Nahuseresh, then?” Costis asks, “Every time. Back in Attolia, and here as well?” 

 

“Yes,” Kamet says, because there is no point in lying, “but I -” 

 

“No,” Costis says, “please. Don’t say you deserved it. You could never have.” 

 

That’s a lie, but also not what Kamet had been about to say. 

 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Kamet says firmly, “because I’ve left now, haven’t I? There’s no way for me to go back. So it’s fine.” 

 

Costis stares at him. Has obviously conceded that there is no point in continuing this conversation right now. “Do you want to wash your face?” he asks, “Seeing as it’s all smudged now?” 

 

“Yes,” Kamet says. “I have no make up on me, there’s no way I can fix it.” 

  
  


-

  
  


Kamet naps the next afternoon, has a weird dream that their ship catches on fire and they have to wade through muddy water to town, and that they lie to an innkeeper, and they get lost in the wilderness and get supremely muddy and he wakes up very pleased that he’s actually in one of Costis’ clean t-shirts on a comfortable bunk, Costis sitting near his feet reading a book. Much better than whatever the hell his dream had been about. It does make him think of the police though. He was probably safe now, but only probably. 

 

“Hey,” he says to Costis to announce his awakeness. 

 

Costis reaches down, squeezes his foot in reply. 

 

“You truly think Eugenides and Irene will happily get me lawyers?” 

 

“I truly think so,” Costis says, doesn’t look up from his book. It’s a cheap thriller/romance that had been in the ferry’s scant library. “I know so.” 

 

“I’d a weird dream,” Kamet says, sits up with a yawn, “I think I kicked you in the nuts at some point.” 

 

Costis winces, then laughs. Puts his book down. “I’m glad that was just a dream,” he says, “sleeping on a rocking bed probably isn’t very conducive to a restful sleep. Unless you found kicking me in the nuts invigorating?” 

 

“It was upsetting,” Kamet replies, folds himself in half over his legs to stretch, and then reaches for Costis’ arm to pull him closer, “you were angry at me.” 

 

“I probably would be if you had kicked me there,” Costis says, follows Kamet’s tug happily, “but I’d forgive you.” 

 

“How far away are we?” Kamet asks, lets out an ‘oof’ as Costis simply drapes himself on top of Kamet, “when do I need to put actual clothing on?” 

 

“Just stay dressed like this,” Costis says, presses a bristly kiss to Kamet’s cheek, “we’re not seeing anyone special when we dock. In about an hour and a half.” 

 

“I need to be wearing pants,” Kamet says, rolls his eyes, “not just wearing your shirt as a dress.” 

 

“I like it,” Costis protests, “you have nice legs.” 

 

“I think maybe you’re the one who needs glasses,” Kamet retorts, “should we pack up or-” 

 

“Or,” Costis says. 

 

-

 

It’s early evening when they disembark, the light already mostly gone from the sky, and Kamet has to lean a little on Costis’ arm to stop himself from stumbling in the low visibility. They don’t have much with them, just Costis’ bag, and he carries that easily over his shoulder. 

 

“How far off is your car?” Kamet asks, doesn’t want to have to stumble over uneven pavement for too long. 

 

“A couple of blocks,” Costis says, “want a piggy-back?” 

 

“Don’t be daft,” Kamet says. 

 

“How do you feel about getting takeaways?” Costis asks, “and driving to a motel for the night?” 

 

“I thought you might’ve wanted to just drive through the night,” Kamet says, “I have to admit I’m rather pleased you’re not an idiot after all.” 

 

“You’re so rude,” Costis says cheerfully, “and have you complain about poor sleeping conditions for another night? I think not. We’re going to a place with nice beds.” 

 

“A big bed,” Kamet corrects, “the problem with the other one was that it wasn’t made for someone of your hulking size to be sharing it with me.” 

 

“In all fairness,” Costis says, “I did suggest I could sleep in the other bed, and you were the one who suggested I did not.” 

 

“I was cold,” Kamet replies primly, “let’s get curry for dinner.” 

 

-

  
  


They only drive for about half an hour after they buy their takeaways before they get to the motel. It’s not very fancy, but it’s nice enough, and clean enough. Costis makes the arrangements while Kamet stays in the car - which is also nice and clean enough but certainly not by any means fancy - and then, curries under arm, they go in and Costis steps out of his boots, and Kamet stretches languidly after putting the curry down, and then Costis is looking at the bed, and Kamet is looking at the bed, and then Kamet’s stomach rumbles and Costis laughs at him. 

 

“Food,” he says, “the kitchenette here comes with some crockery and cutlery, so we can eat off of plates like civilised people if you like.” 

 

“But then,” Kamet says, “to continue acting like civilised people we would have to do the dishes.” 

 

“This is true,” Costis agrees, “do you want to eat on the bed?” 

 

“Yes, the single,” Kamet says, “so it won’t matter if we get crumbs in the covers.” 

 

“Ah,” Costis says, grins not quite wickedly at Kamet, “you don’t want us to share that one then?” 

 

“No,” Kamet says, “but if your sense of humour continues so poorly I might suggest you sleep in it.” 

 

“Ouch,” Costis grins. 

 

They eat their dinner. 

 

Costis rinses the containers, trashes them, suggests they shower before bed.

 

-

 

“So,” Kamet says when Costis knocks on the bathroom door while Kamet is standing by the shower waiting for the water to heat, “you’re the kind of heathen who thinks showering together is a fun thing to do, then?” 

 

“Probably,” Costis says, grins when Kamet opens the door for him, “it’s just such a remarkably big shower for such a small suite.” 

 

“Yes,” Kamet agrees, “and I had been looking forward to the amount of space it would provide me to wash in.” 

 

“I could wash your hair for you,” Costis offers, and Kamet scoffs. 

 

“Ah,” he says, “what magazines are you reading? Flirting with showers and hair washing? How old are you again?” 

 

“Shut up,” Costis says, “I just want to keep you company. It’s - it’s been a long time.” 

 

Kamet stares at him for a moment, then lifts one shoulder, drops it, steps away from the door and into the shower. 

 

“Go on, then,” he says, “if I get cold I’m pushing you out again.” 

 

“That’s fair,” Costis says. He’s already shucking his clothing, leaving them in a puddle on the floor in the doorway. Uncivilised. 

 

This is not the first time now that Kamet has seen Costis undressed, or undressing. Not that they had done much with that on the ship. The entirety of their...intimacy had been conducted while wearing clothing. However, the cabin had been small, and Kamet had been unwilling to appear bashful, so he had seen Costis change. Watching him undress with the intent of getting into a small space with Kamet, however, is a completely different situation. He has to look away. 

 

Costis steps into the shower behind him, closes the shower door before the steam can entirely take over the small bathroom. 

 

It is indeed a large shower. Made a lot smaller once Costis’ bulk is inside it. Kamet had been standing in the middle of it, but now Costis had gotten in, to avoid being immediately pressed together, Kamet had stepped to one side and was now standing just in the spray of the stream rather than directly under the water. 

 

“Is this alright, then?” Costis asks. Kamet supposes he should probably turn around and face him, so he does, and then remembers that he only comes up to Costis’ nipples, and so his entire view is just skin and muscle and is altogether overwhelming. 

 

“Ah,” Kamet says, steps back again so his back is pressed against the wet wall, “yes,” he says, “this is alright. I just forgot for a moment how  _ big _ you were.” 

 

“A man might be offended,” Costis says, “having his size remarked about.” 

 

“Are you offended?” Kamet asks, resists the urge to reach out and squeeze Costis’ arm to see if it was indeed as hard as it looked. 

 

“No,” Costis laughs, steps forwards so he is more under the water and there is less room in between him and Kamet, and then he reaches one (big) hand out to brush along the side of Kamet’s jaw. “Are you offended when people say you are small?” 

 

Kamet blushes, because, yes, he is often offended when people point that out, despite the fact that it is entirely true. However, Costis saying it right now, right here, touching him gently and with intent does not offend him. 

 

“No,” he says, “not unless it’s said cruelly.” 

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Costis says, “there is nothing cruel I could say about your body.” 

 

Kamet wants to blame the heat in his body on the warmth of the shower, but knows that would be a lie. He glances down between them, can’t help but compare. 

 

“You don’t need to flatter me,” he says, “I am already undressed.” 

 

“I want to flatter you,” Costis replies, he’s leaning in and down until his lips are pressing against the jut of Kamet’s cheekbone, “because I’m allowed to now.” 

 

Kamet closes his eyes, tips his head back against the wall to encourage Costis’ lips to continue. 

 

“You weren’t before?” he asks. 

 

“No,” Costis grins against his skin, kisses a line down the side of his face, “when I even tried it before, you would give me such a look, I always felt like I was being scolded.” 

 

“Well,” Kamet says, doesn’t want this to dampen (hah) the mood, but feels like maybe it ought to be said. “If Nahuseresh were to realise how much I enjoyed your company,” he says, “he would not have been pleased.” 

 

Annoyingly, but not surprisingly, Costis pulls away a little at this. His hand, which had dropped to Kamet’s shoulder, lifts back up to his jawline, lingers where he knows the marks are still staining his skin.

 

“Not pleased,” Costis says, “like this?” 

 

“Yes,” Kamet says, lifts his hand to grip Costis’ wrist, to tug his hand away from his face. “Like that. But now,” he says firmly, “now. He’s not here to disapprove. So.” 

 

Costis appears to understand that the finality in Kamet’s voice means that this particular box of worms is closed for now, so he hooks his hand around Kamet’s hip instead, steps in closer again so his thighs are pressed to Kamet’s.

 

“Does that mean you want me to flatter you?” Costis says then, slides his other hand up Kamet’s side. 

 

“Yes,” Kamet says, “but,” he adds on, “I think if you  _ flatter _ me too much I won’t get to wash my hair and I really want to. So, maybe,” he says, “we can - you can try and keep your flattery away from mine for a moment.” 

 

Costis laughs at him, but obliges by stepping away a little bit. “Should I wash your hair, then?” 

 

“Go on, then,” Kamet says, “if you get soap in my eyes, so help you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Costis gets soap in his eyes)


	15. Bedazzled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So short! I'm sorry!

 

They get back on the road rather early, Costis rising with the sun, and plucking Kamet out of bed alongside him. Kamet often gets up early, in his job he had to, but his getting up early is not usually accompanied by someone else stubble prickling up against his cheeks in a very - let’s stay in bed very late - sort of way. 

 

They don’t stop for lunch, electing to go through a drive through for some truly horrific fast food, and then eating while driving. Kamet holds a packet of fries in his lap and feeds them to Costis three at a time. 

 

It’s near evening by the time they start driving through the outskirts of Attolia, and only as they begin passing signs welcoming them in does Kamet realise he hadn’t be nervous all day. He realises this because he is suddenly attacked with nerves. The anxiety of what he was actually going to be presented with was suddenly all present. He had managed to hold it off this long because Costis had been so certain, so confident that everything was going to be absolutely fine, had kept voicing this. He hadn’t left any room for Kamet to doubt. Now though, the closer they got, the more room Kamet found in himself to have doubt. Costis’ reassurance was still there, just as strong and loud, but the doubt was louder. 

-

He reaches out to Costis’ elbow as they stop at some traffic lights, and Costis turns to look at him. 

 

“What is it?” Costis asks when Kamet doesn’t immediately speak. 

 

“If they send me back,” Kamet says, “if  they send me back -” 

 

“They won’t,” Costis says firmly. 

 

Kamet ignores this. “If they send me back,” he repeats, “what becomes of us.” 

 

The light turns green. Costis doesn’t go. Just keeps looking at Kamet. A car honks irritably behind them. Costis ignores it. 

 

“We’ll work that out if we come to it,” he says after a few heavy moments, “I want you to know that no matter what happens here, there will continue to be an us if you want it.”   

 

Kamet nods. The honking behind them gets louder. Costis drives. 

-

He had expected them to be driving through the city, out the otherside to the larger estates in the lush greenland surrounding Attolia, but instead Costis navigates them further into the city centre until he arrives at the formidable building that is the Attolian offices. Costis drives them into the parking under the building. 

 

“Irene and Eugenides live in the penthouse,” Costis explains, parking very casually in something marked out as VIP parking. “They prefer to be in the centre of what’s going on.” 

 

“I had expected them to, I”m not sure, live up to their status as the richest and most powerful company in the lowlands, by living somewhere a little bit more luxurious?” 

 

Costis laughs. 

 

“Well,” he says, “I think their penthouse is overly luxurious, but, I feel that you will probably not.” 

 

Kamet shrugs. 

 

“Do they know we are coming?” he asks, and Costis nods. 

 

Kamet already knows this. Costis has been keeping the Attolians informed their entire trip, texting updates on where they were. Still. He felt like he needed to ask. If there was one thing he hated, it was turning up somewhere he wasn’t wanted. 

 

“It’s going to be fine,” Costis says, “you will be fine.” 

 

“You will stay with me?” Kamet asks. Feels like a child asking this. Wants to ask it anyway. 

 

“I will,” Costis says, “as long as you want me to.” 

 

“Alright,” Kamet nods, “shall we, then?” 

 

-

 

Despite having lived in Attolia for a while, and despite Nahuseresh having dealt mostly with the Attolians, Kamet had never actually stepped foot inside this building. It was rather more opulent than he had expected. Possibly not quite living up to the polished metal look of Medean architecture, but certainly attractive and not cheap looking. He doesn’t see much of it, just the lobby in the car park really, because they get into the lift, and Costis taps in a complicated pin, and then swipes a card, and they’re travelling up. 

 

The elevator walls are mirrored, which means that Kamet gets far too long an opportunity to look at himself in them. To look at himself and Costis next to each other as well. It’s not an amazing look, quite honestly. He’s in clothes that have obviously been worn for a few days straight, he hasn’t been able to follow through on his regular skin or hair care, because, he’s been on a BOAT and then in a MOTEL, and the edges of his bruises are still visible. Next to Costis, he looks small and almost laughably fragile. Costis sees him looking, smiles at him in the mirror, and takes his hand. 

 

“I look a mess,” Kamet says, squints at his face, “I’m sure they won’t even recognise me out of my suits.” 

 

“You look fine,” Costis tells him, “stop fretting.” 

 

-

 

They’re met at the entrance to the penthouse, as soon as they step out of the elevator. Kamet hadn’t seen Costis text saying they were on their way up, so he assumes they were spotted on a camera or something. Kamet recognises the men. One of them is the one he had thought momentarily might have been Costis’ father. Truly, he wasn’t sure if he had stopped thinking it. Teleus. 

 

“Good to see you back,” Teleus says, extending a hand to Kamet, but speaking to Costis, “and you as well,” he says to Kamet, offers him a tight lipped smile. “They’re waiting in the sitting room.” 

 

“Thank you,” Costis tells him, reaches out to clap Teleus on the shoulder, “glad to be back.” 

 

Kamet had dropped Costis’ hand before the elevator doors had opened, but now they were faced with actually moving forward, he desperately wanted to be holding on to him again. Costis appears to notice this, because after he holds the door open for Kamet to lead them into the house that he obviously knew well, he holds his hand open at his side. It’s an obvious invitation, but one that says that Kamet is invited to ignore it if he wants. 

 

He takes hold of Costis’ hand, relishes Costis squeezing his fingers. 

 

There is a woman at the door Costis leads them to, she’s standing half to attention, tapping at her phone, barely looks up as Costis approaches. 

 

“I’m not going to announce your arrival,” she tells Costis, “because Eugenides always wants me to preface your name with ‘My favourite coffee maker’, and that pisses me off.” 

 

Costis laughs, “Alright,” he says, “can we just go in, then?” 

 

She nods, knocks once on the door, and Costis pushes it open. 

 

Kamet sees Irene first. She’s seated, almost sprawled, on a low couch facing the door, just close enough that Kamet can see how elegantly she’s dressed, not close enough for him to see her expression. There is a man behind her, who Kamet can only guess is her husband, Eugenides, but he’s facing away, ostensibly looking out of the darkened windows. He’s wearing an extravagantly printed jacket, as if he shopped only within the category of ‘bedazzled greek history’. 

 

Irene doesn’t stand, she simply reaches over the back of the couch and tugs at her husbands clothing. 

 

“Stop being dramatic and say hello,” she says, then drops her hand and looks at Kamet. He thinks she’s smiling. He steps forwards a little, can see that yes, she is smiling. Can’t see that much more. “It’s good to see you again, Kamet.” 

 

“You as well,” Kamet says, hopes he doesn’t sound sarcastic, because he isn’t entirely sure how he feels about seeing her again. 

 

“Finally,” Eugenides say, he’s turned around now, and Kamet can see his face is stretched wide with a grin, but not much else, “do you even know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” 

 

He sounds ridiculously familiar, and Kamet has no idea where to even begin in addressing this question which isn’t really a question. 

 

“I,” Kamet says, “I feel like I should make very clear, straight away, that I am almost certainly a wanted man in Medea, currently. Costis has told me you and your company are fine with that, and that you understand about my… debts, but, as the situation is different than what you sent Costis to me for originally, I will understand if you feel somewhat differently about it now.” 

 

“Oh,” Eugenides says. Costis makes a small noise beside him, as if he wants to butt in right here, but Eugenides is speaking again. “Is that all you have to say, dear Kamet? No joyful greeting?” 

 

Kamet squints at him. 

 

“I know you still don’t have your glasses,” Eugenides sighs, “but I had been hoping you’d recognise my voice, at least.” 

 

Realisation suddenly spills over Kamet with al the ease and gracefulness of a dropped coffee. Irene is speaking. 

 

“Don’t be vain, dear. Your voice has lowered considerably in the last few years, now your balls have dropped.” 

 

“Gen,” Kamet says. Doesn’t quite believe it. He lets go of Costis’ hand to step forward, and then steps forward again when he still isn’t sure he can trust what his eyes are telling him. “You asshole,” Kamet says. 

 

Costis laughs from behind him. 


	16. Something Else

All of this is a lot to take in. Kamet thinks that probably he would be having an easier time getting used to everything being thrown at him if  _ Gen _ \- Eugenides -  _ Mr Fucking Attolia the most powerful man in Attolia and Nahuseresh’s favourite person to badmouth _ \- would just give him a break in the info dump. First of all he has to get used to the idea that the badly dressed Gen he knew is the extravagantly dressed Eugenides in front of him. It’s quite easy to put his clothes together. His clothes as ‘Gen’ had been bright and brash and cheap. Keep the bright and brashness but add money and you came away as extravagantly fashionable. The next was putting together intern Gen and Mr Attolia. Also doable, but with a lot more mind gymnastics. Not helped by Costis sitting next to him making amused and annoyed noises as the truth spills out about Kamet and Eugenides’ original friendship. Next is the fact that… Nahuseresh was never fired. Kamet and Costis make identical noises of surprise. Irene rolls her eyes. 

 

“You mean to tell me,” Kamet snaps, “that I abandoned my  _ books _ , my  _ clothes _ , my  _ job _ for a lie?” 

 

Eugenides shrugs. It’s the same sort of diffident shrug that Gen used to do but now when he does it Kamet can see the power behind it. 

 

“We’ve talked about you leaving your job before,” Eugenides says, “I was confident you wouldn’t leave if I didn’t make it your only option. I am sorry you were… upset. But I have to tell you that I wouldn’t change what I did. I need you here.” 

 

“Why?” Kamet demands. Costis has shifted on the sofa they are both on. They had started out at sensible distances from each other, but now Costis’ thigh was pressing hard against Kamet’s. He’s unsure if it’s as a suggestion to calm down or as comfort. Possibly both. 

 

Eugenides shrugs again. 

 

“You are my friend,” he says simply, “and I couldn’t leave you there. That is not the only reason, but I want you to know that it was a reason.” 

 

Kamet repeats his demand. 

 

“The Mede businesses are an overarching criminal empire,” Eugenides says, he says it with the simplicity of someone stating the weather, “and I intend to remove the threat they pose to the economy, smaller businesses, and of course, my friends. Also, I have quite a lot of deep seated resentment of your former boss and I would very much enjoy seeing him get squashed under crippling debt and shame when we uncover the true extent of his and his company’s crimes.” 

 

Kamet stares a little. 

 

“He isn’t my former boss,” he says at last, because that is the only thing he can think of to say. “If he is not fired and arrested, I am still his employee. I never resigned.” 

 

Eugenides waves this away. Irene speaks. 

 

“Of course,” she says, “you are under no obligation, now that you are here, to actually resign. You may go back to your job and your old life. However, for the good of Attolia, your own well being, and most likely, the world, I suggest you resign. As I’m sure Ormentiedes here as told you, we are more than happy to cover all your legal costs, and to pay off the debt wrongfully heaped on you.” 

 

Kamet narrows his eyes. There is a lot here as well that he is not sure how to digest. He starts at the easiest. “Is that a threat?” he asks. 

 

Eugenides snorts. Irene elbows him, but replies calmly. 

 

“Not at all,” she says, “I am simply pointing out what I think to be the obvious. You were unhappy and badly treated under the Medes. Not only do they not appreciate your academic skills, they do not give you the humanity you deserve. There will be no repercussions from us if you decide to leave.”

 

Costis’ thigh is very warm against his. His hand is on it, thump pressing against the side of Kamet’s thigh. It’s obvious he wants to hold his hand. Kamet ignores it for a moment because he needs to be able to think and if he holds Costis’ hand all he will want to do is go to bed. 

 

“The debt wrongfully heaped on me?” he queries. 

 

Eugenides snorts again. Irene elbows him again, and then Eugenides replies. 

 

“Even if you are not entirely certain,” he says, “you must have at least suspected. You left your home company with Nahuseresh because he promised to fund your education and to pay for your studies, yes?” 

 

“Yes,” Kamet says. 

 

Eugenides continues. 

 

“He said he would fund your studies because he saw potential in you, your academic record was impeccable, your grades awe inspiring. He wanted you to work for him. It was not a loan, but an investment. Yes?” 

 

Kamet doesn’t bother replying. 

 

“Nahuseresh never sent money to your family,” Eugenides presses on, and he has you in debt for your university fees, your housing, your food. You earn a pittance working for him, he doesn’t provide you with basic necessities that would make your life easier. We could very easily build the case against him with all of this, if you would like, any lawyer worth their salt would bring you out on top. If you’d prefer, however, we will simply pay these debts off and you can forget them.” 

 

Kamet had always been vaguely aware that his family had not been receiving any money. He had left them so long ago now, before he was a teen. He had no way of contacting them, no way of finding out what their finances were. Still, he had always supposed that even if Nahuseresh wasn’t paying them, at least they would be in a better financial position having one less child to feed and educated. His debts made sense to him. His family constantly plagued him, but more for the fact that he could no longer recall his parents’ faces than the idea that Nahuseresh was not paying them. 

 

“I do not want to fight,” he says. Eugenides nods. Costis’ hand is open on his own knee. Kamet lets himself reach for it, lets Costis curl his fingers around Kamet’s tightly. 

 

“We won’t fight it then,” Eugenides says. “We will pay the debts. If you do change your mind at any point, however, the offer stands open. My next offer, is that of a job. We have a letter here for you, an official document with the job position, salary, responsibilities. You don’t need to decide anything now. You can have a week to think it over, decide whether you’d like to return to Nahuseresh and the Mede. During this time you’re welcome to stay here, or at a hotel, we will put you up of course -”

 

“I will stay with Costis,” Kamet cuts in, mouth moving faster than his head, “I am staying with Costis.” 

 

Eugenides barely glances at their joined hands. There’s a half smile quirking the corner of his mouth. Irene nudges him. He nods. 

 

“I’m sorry for how shocking all of this must have been,” Eugenides says then, “it is late. I’ll let you retire somewhere more comfortable now to get used to everything and to think in peace.” 

 

It’s a dismissal, but a kinder one than Kamet is used to. He nods. He squeezes Costis’ hand, and they both stand. 

 

The walk to the car, and then, the drive to Costis’ small apartment, is barely noticeable. Kamet is tired, and his brain is full, and his eyes are fuzzy, and he’s busy thinking about how different Gen looked, and how much he had missed Gen’s easy laughter, and how he hadn’t heard it properly tonight and how he even wished he had hugged Gen and whether he would be allowed to know that Gen was Eugenides. 

 

-

 

“It isn’t very much,” Costis is saying as they get out of the car, “it is a small flat, but it is tidy. I flatshare with my friend Aris, but he will be in his room asleep already, he has an early shift tomorrow morning, so we can use the kitchen and bathroom without being interrupted.” 

 

Kamet nods. He waits until Costis has led them to his door, unlocked it, ushered him in, and shut it behind them again before he speaks. 

 

“I’m sleeping with you?” he asks. 

 

Costis glances at him. “If you want,” he says. 

 

“Alright,” Kamet says. Costis looks like he is about to ask Kamet how he’s doing. About how he feels about all of the things they had heard tonight. About the letter burning in Kamet’s hand. Kamet does not want to. He wants to -- to just shuffle a little sideways, still in the entryway, to press his head against the solid heat of Costis’ chest. “Take me to bed.” 

 

Costis, in a surprise move, obliges by bending his knees ever so slightly, and wrapping his arms around Kamet, one around his waist, one around the backs of his thighs, and lifts him up of the ground before carrying him through the darkened house to a bedroom with the door standing ajar. He carries Kamet in, puts him down mostly carefully on the bed, and then steps aside to turn the light on. 

 

“Do you want anything?” Costis asks, “tea? Food?” 

 

“I had enough at the Attolias’,” Kamet mumbles. Costis’ bed is made, the blanket on top thick. It looks well made, but well made in a certain hand stitched sort of way rather than a bought way. It is very comfortable. “I only need sleep.” 

 

“You can have it, then,” Costis says, he’s smiling at Kamet in an oddly soft way, “would you like to borrow some sleep clothing?” 

 

“I highly doubt any of your pajamas will fit me,” Kamet replies. He’s rolled into a vaguely upright position so he can ditch his shoes. 

 

“You could wear a shirt, at the very least,” Costis offers, “some boxers?” 

 

“I could,” Kamet says. He kicks his shoes a little away, and then tugs his shirt off. 

 

“They’d be big on you,” Costis says, voice slow, “but -” 

 

Kamet lifts himself up a little so he can shove his already undone trousers down his legs. He balls his clothing up and leans further away from the mattress to drop them on top of his shoes. 

 

“Um,” Costis says. He does not say this in an uncertain way. Just a gap filler way. 

 

Kamet drops onto his back so he can pull his underwear off, flicks them away to join his clothing. “I don’t need anything,” he says. 

 

Costis watches him for one long wry moment. Long enough that Kamet thinks that possibly he is being presumptuous. Possibly he oughtn’t have just stripped down so easily and so casually. Then Costis strips his own shirt off and drops in onto the pile of Kamet’s clothing. He shucks his trousers and underwear in way easy movement, and kicks his shoes off with them before taking a long step over to the bed, and climbing up onto the mattress beside Kamet. 

 

“I need sleep,” Kamet mumbles, “but I - I would like something else, first.” 

 

“Not food or drink,” Costis agrees, shifting on his knees so he hovers over Kamet still on his back, “something else.” 

 

-

 


	17. Ten Ducks in a Trench coat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I actually finished this. BEFORE the last QT book. Thank you to all of you who read this silly little office/cafe au! I have appreciated each and every single one of your comments and kudos!

It would be a lie to say that from then on it was smooth sailing, though Gen did like to say that, smiling with all of his teeth. Yes, the debts were paid. Yes, Nahuseresh was very, very, very angry. Yes, threats were made, threats were received. Yes, Kamet ignored the threats as well as possible and accepted the Attolis’ offer of work, got some fucking glasses, watched in HD as his bruises faded away. 

 

-

 

“You should write a book,” Gen tells him, nearly a month after Kamet’s second arrival in Attolia. 

 

Kamet is supposed to be writing a report, and he’s about 98% sure that Gen is supposed to be in a meeting right now, but what is actually happening is that Kamet is batting Gen’s hands away from the keyboard and Gen, perched on the edge of Kamet’s desk and being irritating, is very much not in a meeting. 

 

“About what?” Kamet snaps, “The life of a bedraggled office worker whose boss is a literal cat?” 

 

“Yes,” Gen says, “I’ll do the illustrations. But what I meant was a book about your life. Or, the last few years, maybe.” 

 

“Sure,” Kamet says, “I don’t think that will be an interesting read for anyone, Gen. What would I write? On September the fourth I planned a party. I ordered six crates of wine.” 

 

“Maybe,” Gen says, he hops off the desk and paces across the room, turns on his heel, and comes back again, “but I wasn’t thinking of a book for public consumption. More like, for you.” 

 

“A diary.” 

 

“If you must,” Gen shrugs, “something to give you a way to… look at everything. I know you don’t like to talk about how… difficult your life was, but it might be useful. Out of the mind introspection.” 

 

“You read too much,” Kamet replies, “and don’t attend enough meetings. Weren’t you supposed to be meeting with the finance team right now?” 

 

Gen is behind him, but Kamet can hear him shrug anyway, just part of Gen’s love of dramatics. 

 

“You don’t talk to Costis about it?” Gen asks then. It sounds like he’s fiddling with Kamet’s cork board. 

 

“Have  _ you _ been talking to Costis about it?” Kamet shoots back. He writes a passable sentence in his report. 

 

“No,” Gen replies, flicks a rubber band at the back of Kamet’s head, “I’m just very smart and clever and other words like that.” 

 

Kamet grunts. He writes another passable sentence. 

 

“You two are planning on moving in together, yes?” Gen asks then. 

 

Kamet backspaces both his passable sentences. “I’m already staying with him and his and Aris’,” he points out. Attempts to rewrite the sentences in a more than passable way. 

 

“You’re planning on moving out and finding somewhere new to move in together,” Gen rephrases, “poor Aris.” 

 

“We’ve only just started looking,” Kamet says, “Aris will have time to get used to the idea.” 

 

“Hm,” Gen says. 

 

Kamet closes his eyes. He hasn’t known Gen for a very long time, but, he feels he has known him very deeply in this short amount of time. He knows this ‘hm’. This is the sort of ‘hm’ that Gen makes when he wants to point out why Kamet is wrong about Sophocles, or, when he’s about to make a terrible joke, or, when he’s about to suggest something that sounds like a terrible idea in a board meeting. 

 

“What is it,” Kamet asks, voice flat. 

 

“How would you feel,” Gen begins, and if his ‘hm’ had been suspicious, this was ten ducks in a trench coat suspicious, “about looking in a different housing market.” 

 

Kamet takes a moment to eye the ten ducks in a trench coat up. The ducks eye him back with an innocent look that wouldn’t fool a toddler. 

 

“Expound,” Kamet says. 

 

“Irene and I are planning on opening new branches outside of Attolia,” Gen says, “you know this.” 

 

Kamet did know this. 

 

“We have a lot of very good workers we think will make our extensions a blinding success.” 

Kamet knew this too. 

 

“Our biggest office will be in Sounis, hopefully,” Gen continues, “my cousin and her husband head that.” 

 

“I’m waiting for the part I don’t know and won’t like,” Kamet prompts. 

 

“So you know we want offices in Roa,” Gen says, “because we want to connections.” 

 

Kamet flaps his hand. 

 

“I want you to head those offices,” Gen tells him, very calmly for all his useless exposition, “I know you’re only just moved here, and you are under no obligation to agree to this, but I would very much appreciate you taking this role.”

 

If this was Nahuseresh, this would not have been how this role would have been suggested. Kamet takes a long moment. Then he says; “How much time do I have to think this over?” 

 

“A fortnight, if you want,” Gen replies easily, “it is no rush. If you decide earlier though, you can always leave earlier.”

 

“I would have to talk to Costis,” Kamet says. 

 

“Yes,” Gen agrees. 

 

“You wouldn’t begrudge him leaving here?” Kamet says, shifts in his chair so he is fully face on with Gen, “I know he is a good friend of yours.” 

 

“You are also a good friend of mine,” Gen points out, “I would miss the two of you dreadfully, obviously, but I wouldn’t suggest it if I was going to be bitter at you about it.” 

  
  


“I’ll talk to Costis,” Kamet reiterates. 

  
  


-

  
  


“To Roa?” Costis asks, looks up from the shopping list to Kamet, “Didn’t we buy eggs just the other day?” 

 

“We did,” Kamet agrees, “but Aris ate them all because he is a beast, not a man. Yes, Roa. Near the coast. Apparently the houses are very nice.” 

 

“He is a beast,” Costis sighs, steps away from the shopping trolley to grab a couple of trays of eggs, “but such a lovely beast. Are the houses the only upside?” 

 

“Grab some of that bread too, will you?” Kamet says, fiddles with some coriander sticking up in the trolley, “no. I think it sounds like a very good opportunity.” 

 

“Ok?” Costis says. He comes back to the trolley and carefully puts the eggs and bread in, “What’s with the uncertain tone, then? Do you have to decide tonight?” 

 

“I have a fortnight,” Kamet says, “I just want to know your opinion on this.” 

 

“I’ve already told you,” Costis replies, unfolds the list to look at it again, “I’ll move anywhere to live with you.” 

 

“That’s less helpful than you think it is,” Kamet sighs, “think about it, will you? I think this could be good, but I don’t want you to say yes just because I think it’s good. This is your life. This is your job. This is about you, not just me. Think about it. Don’t just say yes.” 

 

They’re in the snack aisle now. A dangerous aisle to be in. Costis throws four bags of chips in the trolley. Kamet grabs biscuits. 

 

“I’ll think about it,” Costis agrees, “oh, oh, grab the peanut ones too.” 

 

-

  
  


(Relius)

+You’re moving to Roa? 

 

~I haven’t made any decisions yet. What has Gen been saying? What lies is he spreading? 

 

+He said you would probably be moving there within a month to head the Roa offices. You’re undecided? 

 

~He only asked me this afternoon. The dipshit. 

 

+He obviously thinks you’ll say yes. What are you thinking about it 

 

~I do want to take the position. 

 

+So?

 

~Costis has a job he likes here.

~I don’t want to break up with him. 

 

+He doesn’t want to leave? 

 

~He says he doesn’t mind moving. But I want him to have a proper opinion on it. 

 

+I understand. He’s very much like Teleus.

 

~You mean in the way they both stand like they’re made out of stone? 

 

+Well that yes, but I mean in the way that he will go anywhere he’s told to if he trusts/loves the person telling him. 

 

~I don’t want to tell Costis to do anything. 

 

+I think sometimes the definition is a little different for them. Sometimes I say to Teleus that I’m cold, and he takes that as me telling him to turn our ac up.

 

~So. 

 

+So. Keep me up to date with what you decide? 

 

~Of course. 

  
  


-

  
  


“I’ve been looking at apartments in Roa,” Costis says the next night when Kamet comes back into the bedroom for brushing his teeth. 

 

“Yes?” Kamet asks, climbing onto the mattress next to Costis, “And?” 

 

“They are nice,” Costis says. He tugs at the blanket to pull it down for Kamet, “reasonable prices, too. “ 

 

“Mm,” Kamet offers. He sticks his cold feet on Costis’ thighs. 

 

“I read all the information you gave me from Eugenides. The jobs sound good.”

 

“Mm?” 

 

“I guess my only issue is with how far away it is. I already barely see my family. Do you think we’d be able to get holidays long enough to visit?” 

 

“Yes,” Kamet says, “I think so. Plus our pay will be more. We could easily fly them over, maybe?” 

 

Costis snorts, “My father in an aeroplane? Hah. Well. Ok.” 

 

“If it’s too far -” Kamet begins, and Costis shakes his head. 

 

“You’ve already told me our holidays will be long enough.” 

 

“So?” 

 

“I want us to move to Roa,” Costis says, “I like the prospects. I like the houses. I like the idea of watching you boss even more people around. I think it’s a better use of your talents. Do you want to move to Roa?” 

 

“Yes,” Kamet says honestly, “I do.” 

 

“So,” Costis says firmly, “we’ll move to Roa. We’ll get a nice house. You’ll get lots of underlings. I might get a pet.” 

 

Kamet kisses him, then he kisses him a little bit more, then Costis kisses him more. 

 

“We could get cats,” Kamet agrees, a little muffled from being underneath Costis, “two at the most, though.” 


End file.
